Squib Doors
by Ozma
Summary: COMPLETE. Sequel to The Squib and The Death Eaters. Snape faces the consequences of failing his mission. And Filch, Ginny and Neville have a near-fatal detention.
1. Vigil

Squib Doors  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
A sequel to "The Squib and The Death Eaters"  
Chapter 1: Vigil  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
  
Wielding my scrub brush with a vengeance, I attacked the dirty flagstones on the floor of the   
castle's entry hall as if each stone were a deadly enemy.  
  
Hogwarts' entrance hall is huge. I knew that trying to give the floor an extremely thorough   
cleaning during the school term was an exercise in futility. By tomorrow evening, the students would have   
it covered with muddy footprints all over again. This task was usually one of my projects during   
Christmas holidays, when the Castle is nearly empty. But I had been an invalid for most of December and   
part of January. As a consequence, my regular cleaning schedule was lost beyond all hope of recovery.   
Keeping the floor really clean for just one night was the best I could manage. It wasn't good enough, but it   
would have to do.  
  
As a squib surrounded by witches and wizards, I can admit (if only to myself) that I am a petty   
tyrant when it comes to the few things I can actually control. Keeping the Castle clean, keeping the   
students sufficiently cowed, these things can make me almost content with my lot in life. But now, matters   
inside Hogwarts felt as if they were slipping out from under me. Even though I had recovered, I moved   
more slowly than I had done before, and I tired more easily. My work took me longer to accomplish.  
  
Frustrating as this was, it was just half the problem. I'd been accustomed to keeping an eye on   
mischief-making students with the help of my cat, Mrs. Norris. But, Mrs. Norris was still being overly   
protective. She refused to leave my side in order to patrol the corridors on her own. She was near me   
now, sitting on a section of freshly scrubbed flagstone, like a small, dusty sentinel. I knew that students   
were probably breaking rules all over the castle, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it!  
  
And Peeves was still treating me as if I was something breakable. Usually, this would not be   
worthy of comment. The poltergeist most often deals with breakable things by simply breaking them.   
Peeves was actually treating me as if I were something that he wanted to keep in one piece! It was most   
unsettling.  
  
But tonight my smaller troubles had been dwarfed by a much bigger fear.  
  
Earlier this evening, Professor Severus Snape had been summoned by the Dark Lord.  
  
I'd seen the summons. It had happened right in front of me. We'd been in a corridor, surrounded   
by a mob of yelling Slytherins and Gryffindors. There had been an altercation; three young Slytherins   
against two young Gryffindors. Curses had been thrown. The commotion had attracted more students of   
both houses, and their professors. Professors Snape and McGonagall were trying to sort out what had   
happened.   
  
I'd been shouting about detentions. The two Gryffindors had already been assigned detention   
with me, but I had been determined to get my hands on the Slytherins as well. I really wanted those three!  
  
Suddenly, Professor Snape's face had gone paler than usual. I hadn't understood the significance   
of his slight wince, and the involuntary clutch at his left forearm as if something there had hurt him. I   
might have missed the whole thing, if it hadn't been for Professor McGonagall and Harry Potter. Both of   
them had reacted. Potter's green eyes had widened and he'd taken a sharp breath. Minerva had reached   
out to Snape, as if to support him.  
  
Still clutching at his arm, Severus had stepped back. He'd drawn himself up to glare coldly at   
both of them, and then at me.  
  
"You may do what you like with Mr. Longbottom and Miss Weasley, Filch!" He'd snarled. "But   
Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle belong to my house! I shall attend to their punishment!" Not   
waiting for my reply, dismissing me from his attention as if I didn't exist, he'd addressed Professor   
McGonagall.  
  
"I leave matters in your capable hands," he'd said, silkily. He'd stalked off down the corridor,   
black robes swirling around him, drawing his triumphant, satisfied Slytherins in his wake.  
  
I still hadn't understood. Under the loud sounds of Gryffindor outrage rising all around us,   
Minerva had leaned closer to me.  
  
"Argus, leave Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle to Severus. It is for your own good, and for his as well."   
It was the look of concern on her face, concern for Snape, that had finally made me see. My eyes gone   
huge, I had framed a silent question at her. She'd nodded, grimly.  
  
Resting a gentle hand on Potter's shoulder, she'd turned away from me then, to soothe her angry   
young lions.   
  
Feeling suddenly weak, I'd leaned against the wall. I owed Severus Snape my life. In early   
December, he and Professor McGonagall had rescued me from Lucius Malfoy's fourth or fifth-best   
dungeon, after a terrible night spent under the not so tender mercies of Crabbe and Goyle, senior.   
  
Professor McGonagall had masqueraded as my cat, Mrs. Norris, to free me. Professor Snape's   
continuing masquerade, as a loyal Death Eater, was far more dangerous. In order to keep me safe he'd had   
to "fail" a mission for the Dark Lord. I hoped that saving my life would not cost him his own.  
  
******  
  
Mrs. Norris, who hears better than I do, looked towards the marble staircase. I glanced up from   
my scrubbing. Minerva McGonagall was coming down the stairs. In her arms she carried a neat stack of   
parchments. I guessed that these were student essays she needed to read.  
  
"Has Severus gone yet?" I asked her, hoarsely. "And does the Headmaster know?"  
  
"Yes, to both questions."   
  
"Merlin help him!" I thought. I could only hope that Snape returned to us, after answering the   
Dark Lord's summons, in one piece. I could at least wait up for him. It wasn't much, but it was all I could   
do.  
  
Mrs. Norris and Professor McGonagall exchanged a polite feline greeting, meeting each other's   
eyes for a moment, and then looking away.   
  
"Severus may not return for many hours," Professor McGonagall told me. "He may not even   
return tonight."  
  
"He may never return at all!" I thought, wretchedly. I didn't have to say that out loud. My   
expression must have been eloquent enough.  
  
Minerva didn't try to deny that possibility. Her mouth compressed into a thin, worried line. She   
sat, ramrod straight, on a lower step of the main staircase. Beside her, the student essays rested in a neat   
stack.  
  
"Professor, you don't have to wait down here, with me." I said. She didn't look very comfortable   
sitting on the step like that.  
  
"I will stay here for a while," she said. "You and I do have things to discuss, Argus. There is the   
matter of Neville and Ginny, and their detention. They have told me what happened. How much of the   
incident did you see?"  
  
"None of it!" I confessed angrily. "I only came later, after I heard all the noise." I couldn't help   
glowering at Mrs. Norris. "I should have been one of the very first on the scene!" I grumbled. No creature   
living could spot trouble about to happen like my cat managed to do. If only she'd been there, just as the   
trouble was starting, instead of wasting her time shadowing me!  
  
Mrs. Norris returned my glare with a soft hiss and an indignant flick of her right ear. She twisted   
away from me to lick daintily at her left shoulder.  
  
Professor McGonagall smiled. "She intends to keep a close watch on you until she feels that it is   
no longer necessary to do so. And she feels that if you want a companion to give you blind, unquestioning   
obedience, then perhaps you should consider getting yourself a dog."  
  
"I was able to take her general meaning, thank you very much, Professor. A literal translation   
was not required." Turning to Mrs. Norris, I muttered "I can look after myself perfectly well, Missy. It   
wasn't me who once got myself Petrified by a Basilisk, now was it?"  
  
Mrs. Norris gave me a long, cool look before shifting her attention to her right shoulder.  
  
"She did have the wit to look at the Basilisk's reflection in a puddle before the sight of the actual   
creature could kill her," Minerva pointed out. "And I remember how you refused to let her out of your   
sight for months after Poppy gave her the Mandrake juice."  
  
"That was different!" I said. "After all the terrible events of that year, it's no wonder that I felt   
protective..." I broke off in dismay. As terrible as the year of the Chamber had been, this year was shaping   
up to be even worse.  
  
I sighed, and admitted defeat.  
  
Gracious in victory, neither Minerva nor Mrs. Norris pursued the subject any further.  
  
"Well, at any rate, I didn't see what happened," I continued, after a few moments. "What did the   
children tell you?"  
  
"Neville said very little, but I gathered that he was having some trouble with Malfoy and his   
friends. The other boys had gotten hold of Trevor somehow and were refusing to return him. Then Ginny   
stepped in to help Neville and matters escalated from there. Neville confessed to using a body-bind on   
Goyle. And Ginny confessed to cursing all three of the Slytherins with boils. In some particularly   
uncomfortable spots!"  
  
"Well, good for her!" I said, before I could stop myself. "Minerva, I do not feel that Mr.   
Longbottom deserves a detention at all. It was only one curse and he used it in self defense! As for Ginny   
Weasley, her actions are perfectly understandable, really..."   
  
Minerva was staring at me incredulously. "Who are you and what have you done with Argus   
Filch?" She was smiling, but her eyes held an expression of concern.  
  
I saw her worry deepen as I continued.  
  
"If anyone deserves to be severely punished it's those three Death Eater Spawn!" My knuckles   
whitened on the scrub brush as I dipped it into my bucket. Drips of Magical Mess Remover flew as I   
gestured with it. Mrs. Norris ducked and Professor McGonagall turned to shield her essays.  
  
"Hanging them up by their ankles would be too good for those three!" I snarled. "I'd like to..."  
  
"To what, Argus?" Minerva's voice managed to be both very gentle and extremely stern. "Leave   
them chained up someplace dark and bitterly cold? Cut bits and pieces off them?"  
  
"I..." my throat had closed up. "I...can't help it, Professor! I know I'm not supposed to remember   
anything about what happened. And I don't want anyone to know that Severus worked no memory charms   
on me. But every time I see those three...!"  
  
"They're children, Argus. They are not the ones who hurt you."  
  
"I know that," I said, bitterly. "I've already had this conversation with the Headmaster, twice   
now. I know that, no matter how badly I wish it were otherwise, I shall not be permitted to punish young   
Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle at any time in the foreseeable future. It seems that the Headmaster is worried   
about what I might do to them."  
  
"Albus is concerned about you, just as he is about the boys."  
  
"I know that," I muttered.  
  
Minerva stood up and came over to me, careful not to step on any wet parts of the floor. She sat   
beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "I remember what you looked like when I found you that   
night," she said softly. "So torn and bloody. I was sure that Severus and I were already too late. But you're   
strong, Argus. Stronger than even you know."  
  
The grey eyes behind her glasses were calm, steady. I looked back, wishing that I could be the   
person that she saw. I didn't feel strong at all.  
  
"It's not fair, Minerva." It was a soft cry, torn from my heart. I knew that she would understand.   
Minerva and I both agreed that the world could be cruel and unfair sometimes. Minerva tries to   
compensate by being as fair as she possibly can. I just become angrier and more bitter as the years go by.   
"No one can make them pay for the terrible harm that they do! They nearly killed me. For all we know,   
they may be killing poor Severus at this very moment!"  
  
"They will pay. Someday," She spoke firmly as if she believed that with all her heart. "As they   
should. But the fathers should pay, not the sons. The boys are still young and they have not yet chosen   
their path. It is not easy, but I know that Severus tries to show them, very subtly, that there are other paths   
besides the ones that lead to He Who Must Not Be Named. I know that, if he could, Severus would cut   
himself to pieces if he thought that it would save the children of his house from the Dark."  
  
I nodded. I'd seen that in Snape too. "It's hopeless. Maybe he has a chance with some of the   
other children of his house. But no one could save those three brats from the Dark. They're black-hearted   
little Death Eaters already!"  
  
  
  
"Severus is determined to try. And he will find a way, if anyone can." Minerva said.   
  
"If he lives..." I pointed out, bitterly.  
  
McGonagall's eyes became sad. "Severus was certain that he would survive the Dark Lord's   
displeasure. He told Albus that it was a calculated risk."  
  
I snorted angrily. "Oh, yes, he told me that as well. So I told him that there were times when the   
difference between a Slytherin's `calculated risk' and a Gryffindor's `reckless courage' was too fine a   
distinction for a mere squib to grasp!"  
  
This earned a faint smile from her. "Oh, my. What did he say to that?"  
  
With the best sneer I could manage, I attempted to imitate Professor Snape's caustic tones. "A   
Slytherin's careful planning is nothing at all like a Gryffindor's reckless stupidity! That should be obvious   
to anyone, even the merest squib!" I grinned. "Then he called me an Ass, and stalked away down the   
corridor in a huff like a great, black manta!"  
  
"Hmm. He said `Reckless stupidity,' did he?" Minerva raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Er... you aren't going to mention that to him, are you?" I said.  
  
"Of course not, Argus. I wouldn't dream of it," she said, sweetly.  
  
"If you do say anything, please remember that you never heard about that conversation from me.   
Blame it on Peeves, and say he overheard us. I hope you do get your chance..."  
  
Minerva smiled sadly and reached out to stroke Mrs. Norris. She is one of a very small number of   
people in the Castle, besides me, who can get away with doing that.  
  
"We still haven't discussed the matter of the detention, Argus. What about Neville and Ginny?"  
  
"You haven't taken away any points from them, have you?" I asked her. "I'm sure that Severus   
was going to take points away from Gryffindor, but he... never had the chance."  
  
"Neither of us had a chance to take any points from either house. There was so much noise and   
confusion. And then we were both distracted."  
  
"At least there's that," I murmured. "So, you really want me to punish your young lions? You're   
not afraid of what I might do to them?"  
  
"Rules exist for a reason." Minerva said quietly. "Hogwarts exists to train responsible witches   
and wizards. Curses should not be used lightly, no matter what the provocation. Neville and Ginny are   
good children. They know that one need not sink to a foe's level in order to defeat them. They know that   
all unpleasant actions have consequences. And they are both capable of understanding the sort of hard   
lessons that you can teach better than anyone. And, no, I am not afraid of what you might do to them."  
  
Her grey eyes studied me closely. I felt, again, that she was seeing me as someone stronger than I   
really was. And again, I wished to be the person that she saw.  
  
"I am not giving you leave to clap them in chains, of course. I've always thought that sort of   
thing showed a lack of imagination anyhow." Professor McGonagall added.  
  
"I will try my best to think of a detention that is both suitable and imaginative, Professor." I   
murmured. This would be my first detention since I'd been out of the hospital wing. I was surprised to   
find that I was actually quite nervous.   
  
"I will, of course, discuss my plans with you, before we schedule a time for the detention to take   
place." I added.  
  
"Thank you, Argus."  
  
Around us, the Castle was going quiet. It was after the time when the students should be in their   
dormitories. The good students undoubtedly were exactly where they should be. The bad ones...  
  
I sighed and gave Mrs. Norris a very pointed look. She ignored me and arched her back under   
McGonagall's gentle hand. My cat purred. The bad students were going to run about, unchecked for   
another night.  
  
Sighing again, I went back to scrubbing the floor.  
  
Professor McGonagall went back to the stairs, and her stack of essays. Conjuring a light, she   
began to read. Mrs. Norris padded after Minerva, curled up on the step beside her, and kept her golden   
eyes on me.  
  
******  
  
Hours later, Minerva had long since finished reading her stack of essays. She still sat ramrod   
straight on the step, Mrs. Norris in her lap, both of them watching me. I had nearly finished the floor.  
  
The Castle's huge front door swung open with a creak. A tall, thin figure in black stumbled   
painfully inside.   
  
Minerva and Mrs. Norris got to Professor Snape first. Minerva didn't seem to be half as stiff as I   
felt, I thought ruefully, as I stumbled after her.  
  
Snape's face and hands, the only parts of him visible under his cloak, were horribly pale. His   
eyes looked like deep, black tunnels. He was trembling. Echoes of the Dark Magic that had been used   
against him surrounded the Professor like a second cloak. I did not need to be told that I was feeling,   
smelling, almost tasting the malevolent magical aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse. Severus was so weak   
he could barely stand.  
  
When we reached out to steady him, he flinched. It hurt him to be touched, though we tried to be   
gentle. Snape hated to be fussed over. He hated for others to see him when he was vulnerable. But seeing   
him this way hurt both Minerva and me, so I figured that we were all a little bit even.  
  
When he spoke, his voice was a sand-paper raspy ghost of its usual silky self.  
  
"Well. It seems that I have calculated the odds of my survival correctly, after all."  
  
Professor McGonagall gently maneuvered his right arm over her shoulder.  
  
Just as gently I did the same with his left arm, taking particular care not to touch his forearm. I   
figured that the Dark Mark would still be very sore.  
  
"Yes, Severus. So you did." Minerva said. She and I helped him towards the staircase. Mrs.   
Norris helped us all by staying out from under our feet.   
  
"I need to see Albus..." Snape whispered. "Let me go. I've made it this far... I can make it on my   
own."  
  
This was such a blatant lie that Professor McGonagall and I ignored it by unspoken mutual   
consent. Behind his back, we also silently settled the matter of where we were taking him. Straight to the   
hospital wing, whether he liked it or not. Neither of us thought that the Headmaster would object to   
debriefing his spy there.  
  
"The two of you shouldn't have waited.... foolish of you." Snape murmured.  
  
We started carefully up the stairs.  
  
"It didn't seem like such a long wait..." I lied. I saw Minerva hiding a wry smile. "Professor   
McGonagall and I had time to discuss the students' detentions."  
  
"Oh?" Severus murmured, though he was concentrating mainly on keeping himself upright.  
  
" She's convinced me that you are right to insist on handling the punishment of your Slytherins   
however you see fit. I will restrict myself to the matter of disciplining the Gryffindors."  
  
"Very good, Filch. I am delighted to know that you've finally seen the light of reason." In spite of   
his condition, Snape actually managed to achieve a respectable level of sarcasm. But it was several   
moments before he could speak again.  
  
When he did, he sounded very cold. "Believe me. I will teach young Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe and   
Mr. Goyle a lesson they will not soon forget. They will not get off lightly."  
  
Minerva flinched. She has a kinder heart than I do. I was pleased to hear this. But, looking at   
Severus Snape's face, hearing his voice, I think that both Minerva and I were equally glad that we would   
not know the details.  
  
"I do believe you, Professor," I said.  
  
END CHAPTER ONE  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note: The description of Snape moving "like a black manta" comes from Andolyn's wonderful   
story "Muggle." I couldn't resist borrowing.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
8 


	2. Detention

Squib Doors  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Squib and the Death Eaters"  
Chapter 2: Detention  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
  
Detentions are supposed to make the students nervous. Not me. I live for detentions. Ask anyone   
at Hogwarts. They'll tell you about the horrid old squib caretaker who exists simply to make the students'   
lives a misery.  
  
It could not be nerves that were making me shake inside as I stared at the pair of young   
Gryffindors who'd been sent to me for a detention. It had to be anticipation. Surely, that was it.  
  
I regarded the serious, round face of the fifth year boy and the equally serious face of the red-  
haired, freckled fourth year girl and tried not to tremble visibly.   
  
It *was* nerves. I admitted it to myself. I felt awkward, almost frightened.   
  
Nearly two months had gone by since I'd last had students for a detention. In that time I'd been   
kidnapped and tortured by Death Eaters and rescued by Professors Snape and McGonagall. My recovery   
had been slow. Some things were still not back to normal. My interactions with the students, for example.  
  
Nothing truly major had changed. The students still despised me. I didn't mind since, in most   
cases, the feeling is mutual. The students still avoided me. I didn't mind that either. I could never get my   
work finished if I had the brats always underfoot. (Look at Hagrid; children hanging about his hut at all   
hours. It's a wonder he can get anything done!)   
  
But, since I'd been injured, I had noticed a different quality in the way the students avoided me.   
Some eyes were averted out of pity. Others seemed afraid of me, not because I am a grumpy and vindictive   
old man, but because the sight of me reminded them of the Dark things currently moving through the   
Wizarding world, despite all the Ministry's words of reassurance to the contrary. Terrifying things that   
could strike without warning, leaving broken bodies in their wake.  
  
I had spent nearly a month in the hospital wing. Poppy had put curtains around my bed so that   
the students wouldn't gawk. It had been for their benefit as well as mine. I hadn't needed a mirror to let   
me know what a dreadful mess I was. Frightening children was usually something that I did not mind   
doing, but I hadn't wanted to do it that way.  
  
My bed had been at the back of the ward, where the noise from the rest of the hospital wing was   
less likely to disturb me. But I'd had nightmares, sometimes during the day as well. It was inevitable that   
some of the students had heard my cries. It was also inevitable that some of them had caught glimpses of   
me as Poppy had tended my wounds.  
  
The details of what had happened to me had been left unclear. I was not supposed to remember   
anything about the attack, or my attackers. But, as always, the Castle was awash with rumors. And some   
of the rumors came close to the truth. Many of the students seemed to know that I'd been left broken and   
nearly dead, by the Dark.  
  
The two children now facing me had each suffered their own terrible encounters with the Dark.  
  
Neville Longbottom's parents had been attacked and tortured by Death Eaters when he was only   
an infant. His Auror father and his gentle mother had been driven insane by repeated applications of the   
Cruciatus Curse.   
  
Ginny Weasley had found a diary during her first year at the Castle. A fifty year old evil relic,   
belonging to the boy who would one day become the Dark Lord. She'd been entrapped, used against her   
will and nearly killed.  
  
Neville and Ginny were eyeing me with haunted expressions. Fellow survivors, they seemed to   
know that I would spend the rest of my life struggling against the aftereffects of what had been done to   
me. The evidence of their own, private battles seemed vivid in their young faces.  
  
Or perhaps they were just two children who would simply rather be anywhere else. They could   
merely be nervous about the work they would be asked to do for me. I was being a foolish old man.  
  
My voice still wouldn't work when I tried to speak to them.   
  
Mrs. Norris came to my rescue. Leaping lightly down from my desk, she padded over to Ginny   
Weasley. Then, to my shock and amazement, she rubbed against the girl's ankles and purred.  
  
"Mrs. Norris?" I exclaimed, finally managing to talk, even if the words came out in an indignant   
squeak.  
  
"Hello, Mrs. Norris," Ginny said, at the same moment. She stroked my cat once, very lightly.   
Wisely, she didn't make a second attempt. Mrs. Norris isn't one to permit undue familiarity, least of all   
from students.   
  
Neville and I looked at Ginny with astonishment.  
  
"How often has she let you do that?" I demanded. To my knowledge, my cat had never permitted   
herself to be touched by a student before. In the past there have been students who have attempted to get   
on my good side by making up to Mrs. Norris. She can see through that type even faster than I can. Those   
foolhardy students had been lucky to escape with any of their skin left intact.  
  
"That was the first time she's ever let me pet her," Ginny admitted. "But she's purred at me   
before."   
  
She blushed, making her face nearly as red as her hair. "I've talked to her sometimes. When   
she's in the hall by herself. After what happened during my first year ...the Basilisk.... well, I just wanted   
to apologize to her. And since then she's never seemed to mind if I speak to her. As long as she isn't too   
busy."  
  
"The only thing she's been busy at lately is getting underfoot!" I grumbled, giving my cat a dirty   
look.   
  
I continued, gruffly. "And, as for what happened with the Chamber... Merlin's Beard, child!   
Everyone knows that none of it was your fault! Even Mrs. Norris and I know that."  
  
I hoped that Ginny Weasley really knew, deep down, that it wasn't her fault. I hoped that people   
who loved her told her every time she needed to hear the words. I wanted to reassure her further, but I   
knew that my aptitude for kindness is about the same as my aptitude for magic.  
  
But Ginny surprised me with a smile. A genuine one. I could see the tension beginning to leave   
her.  
  
Neville had remained quiet, observing Ginny and me, but he also seemed less tense.   
  
Well, good for them. Silly children. I was still as tense as a bowstring. My "conversations" with   
students usually consisted of me scolding and complaining, with very little participation needed from the   
brats involved. This was a new and uncomfortable experience for me.  
  
"Lets get on with it, shall we? Can't hang about all night. We've got work to do..." Stiffly, I got   
up from my desk. I gave Ginny a tray bearing several large bottles of cleaning solution, and handed   
Neville a sack filled with rags. Picking up my toolbox, I lit a lantern and led the way out of my office. As I   
stepped into the corridor I nearly fell over my own feet in order to avoid treading on a toad.  
  
"Trevor!" Neville darted past me, nearly knocking me over as I was still off balance. "I thought   
I'd left you back on my bed!"   
  
The boy blushed as he looked up at me guiltily. "Sorry, Mr. Filch..." he said, putting Trevor in   
his pocket.  
  
Usually I would have spent the next several minutes yelling about careless children who couldn't   
keep track of their pets. But I simply didn't have the energy. It takes a great deal out of me to shout at   
Neville. I know, because I've it done so many times. Not as often as Professor Snape has done, but close.   
Without meaning to be, Neville is one of the most infuriating students at Hogwarts.   
  
Neville is clumsy and unlucky (which was why I'd given all the breakable bottles to Ginny to   
carry) but he is also earnest and brave and unfailingly good natured. Not to mention self-effacing. I've   
even heard him say that he's "almost a squib." I am glad that he doesn't know I've overheard him. The   
foolish boy might want to fall through the floor with embarrassment. Knowing him as I do, it's safe to say   
that he might actually, literally, fall through the floor. And then who would have to mend the hole? Me,   
that's who.  
  
You can't be "almost" a squib. You either are, or you aren't. Believe me, I know. It really makes   
me want to give him a good, hard shake.  
  
Neville Longbottom is, most definitely, a wizard. An almost unbelievably inept one sometimes,   
but a wizard. I could have told him that his magic was as strong as anyone's (and certainly much stronger   
than mine!) but I knew the boy would never believe me. That's what infuriates me about him, more than   
anything else.  
  
Holding the lantern, I led the way through the labyrinth of dungeon corridors. Our destination   
was several long passages away, but the walk took even longer than it should have because Trevor   
managed to get away from Neville twice. The second time Mrs. Norris caught the toad before Neville   
managed to, and I had to snatch him away from her. This put my cat in a miserable temper.  
  
"You can't eat that creature!" I scolded Mrs. Norris, while Neville and Ginny checked Trevor   
over to make sure that he was uninjured. "Not even the boy knows where it's been!"  
  
By the time we reached the gloomy dead-end passage with the small storeroom I'd been heading   
for, I was in a foul temper myself. In other words, I felt perfectly normal. What a relief.  
  
"Hardly one of the show-places of the Castle, is it?" I growled, when I saw the nervous looks on   
their faces. "Well, I come down here fairly often, and nothing's ever gotten me. The only thing we'll find   
down here is some hard work."  
  
"Has Professor McGonagall told you anything about the job we'll be doing?" I added harshly.  
  
Both children shook their heads.  
  
"It's going to be painstaking, and tedious!" I warned them, warming to my subject. "It'll strain   
your eyes and get your hands dirty!"  
  
I unlocked the door to a small, dingy storeroom with a dirt floor, crowded with crates and boxes   
and unidentifiable bits of lumber. An earthy, musty smell rose around us.  
  
Neville and Ginny watched wide eyed, as I set the lamp on the floor beside my tools and began   
wrestling a large, heavy crate out into the passage. "You'll probably get your fair share of splinters too, I   
should imagine..." I continued, wiping sweat from my face. "Not to mention smashing your fingers when   
we start hammering..."  
  
"Mr. Filch?" Ginny interrupted me. "Professor McGonagall said that we were to help you. Please,   
why don't you let us get everything out? Tell us what we need. We can use a levitation charm."  
  
"I am perfectly capable of moving a few crates and boxes!" I growled at her. I knew that she'd be   
all right with the levitation charm, but I was worried that poor Longbottom would drop something large   
and heavy on top of me. Accidentally, but that wouldn't make it any less painful. I'd spent enough time in   
the hospital wing lately, thank you very much.  
  
To my surprise, both children came forward to help me as I started moving the next crate. Denied   
the use of their magic, they readily put their backs into the job instead. With the three of us lifting, it   
wasn't that heavy. Before long there were three crates out in the passage, and I was prying them open.  
  
Besides a plentiful amount of cobwebs, dust and spiders, these crates contained empty paintings.   
Not blank canvases, just paintings vacated by their inhabitants. The frames were broken, the canvases   
were dingy, a few of them were torn, and the colors muted with grime.  
  
"Where have the people in them gone?" Neville asked, sneezing. Trevor had hopped out of his   
pocket again, but the toad was staying nearby, apparently stalking the many scuttling spiders.  
  
"They're all over the Castle. Staying in other paintings, mostly, with friends..." I said. I paused to   
give Mrs. Norris an angry look. She appeared to be weighing the odds of making another successful go at   
catching Trevor.  
  
"Don't even think it!" I said to her. "If you do, we'll never get any work done!"  
  
Wide-eyed, Neville retrieved the toad. Trevor had a mouthful of spiders, and went willingly back   
into the boy's pocket.  
  
"I was supposed to clean these up ages ago," I said. "But, with one thing and another..." my voice   
trailed off in embarrassment.  
  
"Oh! This one's lovely..." Ginny was examining a painting of a meadow filled with wildflowers.   
"Who lives in it?"  
  
"Er... a maiden and a unicorn, I believe. The unicorn has been staying in a forest in one of the   
paintings near the prefects' bath entrance. The wretched creature gives me dark looks whenever I walk by.   
I don't know where the maiden has gotten herself to."  
  
"I'll start with this one," Ginny said.  
  
Neville selected a painting of a table, with a banquet spread out on it, surrounded by empty   
chairs.  
  
"You must be getting plenty of dark looks from this lot," he said, sympathetically. "They ought to   
be terribly hungry by now..."  
  
Before long I had them both set up with rags, bottles of cleaning solution and careful   
instructions. "Only a dab of the potion is needed to clean off the dust and restore the brightness of the   
colors. Too much might damage the paint. And, for best results, try to move in the same direction as the   
brushstrokes!"   
  
Ginny and Neville nodded and went to work willingly enough.  
  
When I saw that they'd gotten the hang of it, I turned my attention to fixing loose frames and   
mending rips in canvas.  
  
I was squinting over my work, when I noticed a tingle of magic whispering against my skin. The   
light seemed to have improved. I looked up to see my lantern levitating beside me.  
  
Globes of glowing light were also illuminating the area near Neville and Ginny.  
  
"Miss Weasley! You are not supposed to use magic during a detention!" I growled.  
  
"I'm not using magic to do the work," she said earnestly. "Just to make things a bit easier for all   
of us. You were straining your eyes. You needed more light, but we need the light too. This seemed the   
best solution."  
  
I had to admit, the child had a point.  
  
"I like having the extra light..." Neville admitted shyly. "Brightens the place up a bit."  
  
He had a point too.  
  
Both of them were wise enough not to press me any further. At least not with words. But there   
were looks of entreaty on their grubby faces. They were working hard, diligent and uncomplaining   
enough to impress even Helga Hufflepuff. These were good children, as Minerva had told me.  
  
I did not know that those globes of light, and the levitation charm on my lantern were the first   
spells used in this little dead-end passage, in front of the small storeroom with the dirt floor, in a dragon's   
age. I had absolutely no idea what I was setting in motion. I was thinking "What harm will it do?" Merlin   
help me, I was trying to be kind.  
  
"All right, keep the lights. And keep the lantern up for me too, if it's not a strain for you," I   
muttered.  
  
I consider everything that happened later to be all my fault.  
  
END OF CHAPTER TWO  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
RioRaptor: Yes, Filch looked so cool in the movie! "God, I miss the screaming!" What a great line! Say   
"Hi!" to Shadow for me!  
  
Gramarye, Thank you for your very kind words!  
  
Warlise: Excellent point about how people who do the sort of work that Filch does become a)invisible and   
b) highly observant!   
  
Zebee: Filch knows he's cruel, but he wouldn't call himself "mindlessly" so. From his point of view, the   
students stay up late at night thinking of ways to make his life miserable and he's simply returning the   
favor. Being so relentlessly cantankerous takes plenty of hard work, clean living, dedication and   
imagination! ;-) Though, yes, in my stories he is going to start to realize that some of the students do have   
redeeming qualities.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you for your very kind words! I'm glad that I didn't stay lost!  
  
Alys Landale: These stories are the first ones that I've ever written in first person POV. Writing this way   
is tricky sometimes, but it felt right. Perhaps I should worry because I find it easy to hear Filch's voice?   
Nah.  
  
I post as often as I can, as long as the story that I'm working on continues to flow smoothly. But I don't   
have a posting schedule.  
  
Quoth the Raven: Poor Filch. He doesn't seem to appear in very many fan-fics, does he? He sure is fun to   
write, though.  
  
Blue Meanies: I've read and enjoyed stories where Minerva and Severus are romantically involved, but   
they aren't going to have a romantic relationship in my stories. Minerva cares for Severus deeply, though.   
He's her former student, current colleague & sparring partner and her sometimes infuriating friend. She   
feels protective of him and doesn't like to see him getting hurt.  
  
Nightengale: Thank you for your very kind words!   
  
  
  
  
6 


	3. Detention and Magic Don't Mix

Squib Doors  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Squib and The Death Eaters"  
Chapter 3: Detention and Magic Don't Mix  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
  
  
Professor Snape has often said that Neville Longbottom is too dangerous to be allowed to use a   
cauldron. Professor Snape should consider himself lucky that he's never been near Neville when the boy is   
using a hammer.  
  
(Though Severus certainly would have known better than to offer to hold nails in place for   
Neville while the boy hammered...)  
  
"OW!!" I shrieked, clutching my right hand.  
  
Mrs. Norris, who had been in a snit ever since I'd refused to let her eat Neville's toad, gave me a   
smug look that told me I deserved what I'd gotten.  
  
"Oh! Mr. Filch! I'm sorry!" Poor Neville looked crushed. Not half as crushed as my poor fingers.  
  
A good and patient old man would have reassured the boy with some kind words. But Neville   
was stuck with me, which is Neville's usual sort of luck. So the words that he heard weren't kind at all, as   
well as being not suitable for children's ears.  
  
"I didn't mean to hurt you!" the boy said, miserably. "Here... let me..."  
  
His wand was out, and moving before I could say anything coherent. He took my injured hand in   
his. There was a tiny flash of light. I waited for my hand to turn into a flipper or a toadstool, but instead   
something cool and soothing seemed to wrap itself around my throbbing fingers.  
  
It was a perfect little cooling charm, very neatly done. Not bad, for a boy who considers himself   
"almost a squib."  
  
"There," Neville said. "Does that feel better?" He looked at me, anxiously.  
  
"No magic! You're supposed to be having a detention!!!" I snarled, yanking my hand back to   
cradle it against my body.   
  
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Filch!" he repeated. "I should have been more careful!"  
  
Neville's face was white. He was looking at me as if he'd done something far worse than   
accidentally whack my fingers with a hammer. He continued to sustain the cooling charm around my   
hand.  
  
Ginny Weasly had just tapped in a final finishing nail. She set the newly repaired frame against a   
stack of other finished ones and came over to us.  
  
"How bad is it? May I see?" she asked me, gently.  
  
I glowered at their decidedly grubby, concerned faces, and repressed a weary sigh.  
  
Brats I can handle, any day of the week. The rude ones, the defiant ones, the sly ones. Children   
who look down their magical little noses at me, who treat me as if I am nothing more than the dirt under   
their feet. Anything those little wretches can give me, I can take and give right back again!  
  
But what, in sweet Circe's name, am I to do with the other sort? The good ones...  
  
("Oh! Mr. Filch... we didn't realize we were tracking in all this mud...")  
  
("You should have used those sharp eyes of yours then, eh, Diggory? That's what Seekers are   
supposed to do, isn't it? Of all the inconsiderate..!")  
  
("I'm really sorry, Mr. Filch...")  
  
So am I, Cedric. So am I.   
  
"Neville," I said quietly. "It was an accident. You meant no harm."   
  
I held out my damaged hand to show Ginny, gingerly flexing my fingers. My right index finger   
was bruised blue and blood had welled up under the nail, but the boy's cooling charm had eased the pain.  
  
"Don't fret," I said gruffly, "I've had worse."  
  
Neville winced. "I know."  
  
It was the first time that any student had said anything on the subject to me. I didn't know what   
to say in reply.  
  
"I was in the hospital wing back in December," Neville went on. "Forgot to step over a trick stair   
and sprained my knee..."  
  
"Oh," I said.  
  
"You look much better now," Neville told me.  
  
"You really do..." Ginny said, earnestly. "I caught a cold," she explained, "just before Christmas.   
I went to the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey could give me some Pepperup potion."  
  
I looked at them, seeing only kindness and sympathy in their young, dirty faces. I still didn't   
know what to say.  
  
For a while there was only silence.  
  
"You don't have to keep on doing that, if it's too much bother." I nodded to Neville, indicating   
the cooling charm he was still keeping around my fingers.   
  
"It's all right, Mr. Filch."  
  
Neville kept the cooling charm going, while Ginny finished fixing the last of the broken frames.   
He continued to hold it, while he and Ginny packed up my tools, the cleaning potion, and their dirty rags.   
He finally stopped when I told him to, so I could pack the refurbished paintings back up in their crates to   
bring back to my office.  
  
With Neville's cooling charm added to the lights Ginny had already conjured, and the levitating   
spell she'd used on my lantern, this little dead-end corridor now seemed awash with magic.  
  
The earthy, musty smell from the storeroom with the dirt floor seemed to have gotten stronger.   
More pungent. And there seemed to be another odor underneath. Almost like something had died.  
  
I wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Ginny's freckled nose was wrinkled. Neville held his nose   
pinched shut as he watched me packing up the crates. Mrs. Norris paced around all of us, looking uneasy,   
ears and whiskers twitching.  
  
"Ugh!" Neville said. "What's that?"  
  
"The smell's coming from the storeroom," Ginny said, also pinching her nose. "But why didn't   
we notice it before? That doesn't make sense..."  
  
Waving her wand, she motioned one of her floating lights over to the open door leading to the   
smelly storeroom.  
  
Mrs. Norris was suddenly between Ginny and the storeroom door. The girl had to stop to avoid   
stepping on her. But Ginny's floating light, unhindered by Mrs. Norris, continued on its way into the   
dark, little room.  
  
The globe of light flickered and began to fade. Just before it went out, it seemed as if something   
long and sinuous, had moved in the dark.  
  
Mrs. Norris hissed loudly, and lashed her tail.   
  
"D-did you mean for it to go out?" Neville asked Ginny, nervously.  
  
Ginny shook her head. " I think that something in there just ate my light!"  
  
I had come over to stand between the children.  
  
The passage seemed much gloomier than before, with only the glow of my oil lantern and   
Ginny's remaining floating light to illuminate the place.  
  
"You said that there was nothing down here!" Neville reminded me.  
  
"I've never seen or smelled anything remotely like that down here before!" I said.  
  
"We could do with a bit more light," Neville murmured. He waved his wand, murmuring   
"Lumos."  
  
The tip of his wand glowed brightly, lighting up the area just inside the storeroom. The children,   
Mrs. Norris and I all saw the dirt floor rippling as if something large, with many tendrils were moving,   
just under the surface.  
  
Suddenly, what looked like a long, thin vine shot up from the storeroom floor. Clods of hard-  
packed dirt flew. The stench of decay became even stronger. The vine moved horribly fast, snaking out   
towards Neville.  
  
"GET BACK!" I shrieked, darting forward to slam the storeoom door closed. The door was made   
of heavy wood. We heard the vine-thing strike it with a thud. The door held. But we could hear a   
rustling, pattering sound from within the room. As if the vine were snaking out along the inside of the   
door, probing for weak spots.  
  
"What is that thing?" Neville gasped. "Is is a Bundimun? Aren't they supposed to smell   
terrible?"  
  
"Bundimuns infest hovels that are never cleaned! They feed on filth!" I snarled, highly affronted.   
"Moldering messes! Dung!! Slime!!! Perhaps I may have let the Castle go, a bit, during these past two   
months, but a Bundimun?! I never...! Of all the rude, impudent....!"  
  
Poor Neville was cowering under my verbal assault, but Ginny spoke up.  
  
"I've never heard of a Bundimun that shot vines out of the floor," she said. "Aren't they supposed   
to look like a sort of fungus? With eyes?"  
  
"I wouldn't know!" I replied, drawing myself up, angrily. "I have never seen a Bundimun in my   
entire life!"  
  
There was a loud, shrill mew from Mrs. Norris. Her golden eyes held an impatient look. She   
stalked down the passage, and then turned to look back at us.  
  
"She's right, Mr. Filch," Ginny said. "We shouldn't hang about here. Whatever that thing is, we   
should go and tell someone about it."  
  
"Yes..." I growled, still glaring at Neville. "The Headmaster should know."  
  
Under my anger I felt an undeniable twinge of fear. It couldn't actually be a Bundimun, could it?   
Surely I hadn't let the Castle go that much..? What would Dumbledore say to me?  
  
My heart beating hard, I went to retrieve my toolbox, the lantern, the rag bag, and the bottles of   
cleaning solution.  
  
The Headmaster would have to be informed about this, as soon as possible. But I couldn't tell   
him right away...  
  
Ginny and Neville were standing by the three crates of paintings.  
  
"Mr. Filch?" Neville asked me, timidly, "You aren't planning on having us carry these crates all   
the way back to your office, are you?"  
  
It must have taken a lot of courage for him to speak to me after the way I'd just been yelling at   
him. Poor Neville. None of this was his fault.  
  
"No, they're too heavy," I said, without looking at him. "The two of you can use your levitation   
charm. It will be much faster."  
  
Yes, I was the one who told them to use the levitation charm. I hardly even gave the matter a   
thought. I was trying to recall something else, something important. I couldn't tell Dumbledore about this   
right away because....  
  
Behind me I heard two young voices saying "Wingardium Leviosa!" Warm tendrils of magic   
brushed against my back.   
  
The thing behind the storeroom door pushed against the wood. It creaked alarmingly. Without   
warning, the door gave. It didn't splinter, it crumbled. As if something had eaten away at it from within.  
  
Long, thin vines, sickly green in hue, snaked out of the storeroom,where they were rooted in the   
dirt floor, bringing with them a stench of decay. Ignoring me, the vines coiled out towards the children.  
  
Ginny and Neville didn't run. It wouldn't have done them any good. The vines had them   
cornered against the dead end wall. Both young Gryffindors had the presence of mind to lower their   
crates carefully, even Neville. Then, wands sparking, Neville and Ginny attacked. I heard them shouting   
cleaning charms, scouring charms, the sorts of things one is supposed to use against a Bundimun   
infestation. Unfortunately, the vines seemed undeterred. Perhaps this thing was simply too big.  
  
I didn't wait to see what the children would try next. These were young Gryffindors after all, and   
they were likely to do almost anything as long as it was foolhardy and dangerous. Dropping everything   
except the bottles of cleaning solution, I ran forward.   
  
Giving the bottles a shake I began flinging the cleaning solution on the vines. Wherever the   
liquid touched them the vines turned black and withered. The ugly things twisted about like angry snakes.   
But they didn't show any real interest in me until I got between them and the children.  
  
Then there were vines all over me, foul, stinking things. My ribs felt like they were being   
crushed. I gasped in pain. A tendril wrapped itself around my throat and I couldn't breathe at all.  
  
"Accio Mr. Filch!" I heard Ginny shout. Her spell wrapped around me, even stronger than the   
vines, wrenching me free. I felt myself flying towards her. As Ginny's spell released me, she tried to stop   
me from falling and both of us ended up in a heap on the passage floor.  
  
Then I heard Neville. He sounded nothing at all like a frightened boy. It was a young wizard's   
voice that shouted "INCENDIO!"   
  
The terrible wave of heat that accompanied Neville's spell made me cower protectively over   
Ginny. I could only hope that Mrs. Norris had run off somewhere safe.  
  
The vines burned. And burned. And burned.  
  
Now the passage was filled with smoke as well as a terrible stench. Since the air was slightly   
better near the floor, the three of us stayed there, choking, until the vines were destroyed.  
  
"I'm glad that once seems to have done the trick," Neville said faintly, after a while. "Because I   
don't think I can do that again."  
  
"Once was fine, Neville," Ginny told him, sincerely. "Once was perfect!"  
  
"Neville, if you're `almost a squib' then I'm a house elf!" I wheezed. The praise was heartfelt.   
The boy had more than earned it.   
  
Even through the smoke, I could see Neville blush, thanks to the glow of Ginny's remaining   
floating light. Shyly, he pulled Trevor out of his pocket to make sure that the toad was unhurt.  
  
"Thank you, Ginny," I said, gingerly rubbing the bruises on my throat. "You saved my life."  
  
Very much to my surprise, the girl hugged me. Gently, because she'd seen what the vines had   
done to my ribs. I was going to be very sore tomorrow.  
  
"Are you all right, Mr. Filch?"  
  
"I've been worse. You're not hurt, are you? Either of you?"  
  
Neville shook his head.   
  
"I've been worse too," Ginny said. She managed to smile.  
  
Mrs. Norris padded softly out of the smoke. She wound her way around all three of us, making   
impatient little mews.  
  
"I thought that you would have had the sense to run, my sweet..." I murmured.  
  
"I think it must not have been a Bundimun after all," Neville said, thoughtfully. "You don't need   
a spell like `Incendio' for Bundimuns..."  
  
Ginny stood up, waving her wand. "Zephyr!" she said. A small wind sprang up and the air began   
to clear a bit. Turning, she inspected the three crates with the paintings. They had escaped being damaged   
by either the vines or Neville's spell.  
  
Ginny, Neville and I were relieved about that.  
  
Mrs. Norris was still agitated. She was nudging at all three of us with her head, hissing and   
glaring. She was behaving as if the danger had not yet passed. I knew enough to respect her judgement.  
  
"She thinks that we shouldn't linger here, and she's probably right. Come along," I said.   
  
Neville's powerful spell had taken a great deal out of him. I took his arm to help him up.  
  
"We should go and tell Professor Dumbledore about what's happened," Neville said.  
  
"We won't be able to talk to the Headmaster tonight. He had a meeting with the Minister... I've   
only just remembered." I said.   
  
"I'm glad that I didn't know he was gone before," Neville murmured wryly.  
  
Ginny nodded. "Things never seem quite so bad if I know he's in the castle somewhere," she   
said. It was an opinion shared by the majority of the various beings inside Hogwarts Castle. Things were   
never as bad as they could be, as long as the Headmaster was somewhere about.  
  
"I'll speak to Dumbledore in the morning. It's late. Your detention is over. The two of you should   
be getting off to bed," I said gruffly.  
  
Once more the children levitated the crates. My tools and my lantern were still lying where I'd   
left them, near the storeroom, so I went to get my things. The lantern had gone out, and I relit it. When I   
saw what the light revealed I caught my breath in horror.  
  
The vines that Neville had destroyed had been only runners! The root of the thing was still intact   
somewhere under the ground. New vines, thin and sickly green, had spread across the dirt floor. Worse,   
they appeared to be gaining some purchase on the stone walls of the storeroom! As before, the vines didn't   
react to me at all. But, as the children approached, I could see the hideous things quiver.  
  
Why did those foul things only go after the children and not bother with me, unless I got in the   
way? There was only one obvious reason, wasn't there?  
  
"Neville! Ginny! Put the crates down! Ginny, put out your last light! DON'T USE YOUR   
MAGIC!! That thing isn't dead and IT EATS MAGIC!!!"  
  
They were good children, they listened. Unfortunately it was already too late. As I watched, a   
thin green runner wound its way through the storeroom doorway.   
  
It twisted up along the stones of the passageway wall. It seemed to be finding places in the stone   
to grip as it moved.  
  
My bottles of cleaning solution were empty. Neville didn't have enough strength for another   
Incendio...  
  
And the Headmaster wasn't here to pull anyone's chestnuts out of the fire...  
  
"Leave the crates! Just hurry!" I moved forward, holding up my lantern, so they could see into   
the storeroom, and observe what was growing in there. I stood between them and the door as they went   
past.  
  
"RUN!!!" I hissed.  
  
The three of us ran, leaving everything but my ordinary, non-magical lantern. Mrs. Norris led the   
way out down the dead end passage. When we reached what should have been the main corridor, we   
stopped and stared in shock.  
  
The passage only went a little way and simply ended. There were no doors, no way out. We were   
trapped.  
  
I know the twists and turns of Hogwarts Castle better than almost anyone living. And I had   
never, in all my years as caretaker, seen anything like this before.  
  
"This is very bad, isn't it, Mr. Filch?" Ginny said, in a small voice.  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER 3  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Hi! And Hi! I'm sorry about the cliffhanger. There's a couple more coming, I'm   
afraid.. (Corpus Callosum - the great band of comissural fibers uniting the cerebral hemispheres. ;-))  
  
Elspeth: Thank you for the very kind words! I remember reading somewhere that "all cats are `Mrs.'"   
Maybe kittens are the reason. Perhaps there have been several "Mr. Norrises." Wouldn't it be cute to see   
Mrs. Norris with kittens? Ginny would probably want one, but Filch would worry that Fred and George   
would use it for Bludger practice.  
  
Alchemine: I really like McGonagall too! She isn't in nearly enough fan-fics!  
  
Trish: Thank you for the very kind words!   
  
Arcee: Filch has a bit of a soft spot in his crusty old heart for Ginny, a fellow cat lover. He can't help but   
feel predisposed to like a student who genuinely likes his cat.  
  
  
  
7 


	4. Oubliette

Squib Doors  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Squib and The Death Eaters"  
Chapter 4: Oubliette  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
"Yes, Ginny. This is very bad," I said.   
  
"I suppose you must have seen something like this before, Mr. Filch?" Neville asked me   
hopefully. "You've lived at the Castle for such a long time..."   
  
I shook my head grimly. Things inside Hogwarts do tend to move about, but I had never seen an   
entire passageway seal itself off from the rest of the Castle. There's a first time for everything. Ginny,   
Neville, Mrs. Norris and I (as well as Trevor, who was in Neville's pocket) had just been trapped in a   
double-dead end passage, in a remote part of Hogwarts' lowest dungeon.   
  
Finding one's way around Hogwarts isn't easy. I'd be the first to admit that. And I know the   
Castle very well indeed. From the lowest reaches of the dungeons, up to the highest towers. It had taken   
me many years to learn the Castle so well. For a moment, it seemed as if all those years had never   
happened. I felt as uncertain as I had during my days as an apprentice caretaker. As if at any moment, old   
Apollyon Pringle would find me and give me a terrible clout for getting myself lost again.  
  
The fact that we shared this trap with a deadly, foul smelling, magic-eating vine-creature that   
was, even now, inching its tenacious, many-runnered way along the stone walls and floor of the   
passageway behind us did not improve matters one bit.  
  
"Why do you think the passageway sealed itself off like this?" Ginny asked me. "Do you think   
someone ...outside the Castle... maybe You Know Who...?"  
  
I shook my head. "I don't think so, Ginny. The Castle has more magical defenses than even the   
Headmaster knows. This might be one of them. That ...thing back there has somehow managed to get a   
foothold in the storeroom. Who knows how long it's been there, growing in the dirt. I'm the only one who   
usually comes down here, and I can't do magic. The monster never reacted to me. It never left the   
storeroom before. Perhaps when it did leave the storeroom the Castle defended itself by sealing off the   
passage."  
  
"Then the Castle isn't trying to trap us in here, just the monster." Ginny said.  
  
"Unfortunately," Neville pointed out, wryly, "we're still trapped along with it."  
  
The children and I turned to face back in the direction we'd come from. Mrs. Norris wound her   
way around all our feet, hissing, while I lifted my lantern to examine the walls and floor near us. So far,   
we had managed to outrun the vines.  
  
But, their terrible stench filled the gloom all around us, and we had nowhere else to go.  
  
"It would have been better if I'd simply chained both of you up in my office," I said, bitterly.   
"Maybe Professor McGonagall is right, about it showing a lack of imagination. But, when all's said and   
done, you can't go wrong by sticking to the basics!"  
  
Ginny gave me a wry smile. "I'm glad you didn't chain us up. I liked restoring those paintings   
much better. Do you think the vines will bother them?"  
  
"Is *that* what you're worrying about?" I demanded incredulously  
  
"We did do a lot of work on those paintings," Neville said. "And they turned out rather well..."  
  
"The paintings were in that storeroom for a long while! And that vine-thing didn't just get there   
yesterday," I said. "I'd imagine that the paintings will be all right. It would be much more sensible to   
worry about ourselves!"  
  
I saw the looks on their pale faces and felt ashamed. Of course they were worried. But these   
children were two of Minerva's young lions, and they were trying hard to be brave.  
  
In spite of the horrible smell I took deep breaths, struggling to stay calm. Breathing deeply hurt   
my bruised ribs, but at least the pain gave me something to focus on besides my fear. Squibs don't get   
Sorted, so I've never worn the Hat. If I had, I never would have ended up in Gryffindor. I'm not a bit   
brave.  
  
But the vine-beast ate magic, and probably magical people as well. I was the only non-magical   
thing standing between that monster and Neville and Ginny and Mrs. Norris. (That monstrous thing   
wasn't going to get my cat, either!)  
  
I couldn't be as brave as they were, but I couldn't help any of us by panicking.  
  
The children were standing together, talking in quiet voices. Then Ginny looked at me.  
  
"Mr. Filch, we think that you should stand behind us," she said, deep in thought.  
  
Suddenly my fear was unimportant. Anger and bitterness, my two constant and trustworthy   
companions, did an excellent job of banishing all other emotions.   
  
"What did you say, Miss Weasley?" I demanded, my voice a harsh growl. "Are you implying that   
I'm useless, just because I'm a squib?"  
  
Ginny blinked, as if she hadn't expected my reaction. But then her eyes flashed.. "Of course   
you're not useless!! But you've already been hurt, protecting us!! Please, just do it!"  
  
"Er.. Ginny...?" said Neville.  
  
My voice rose, furiously. "If you think I'm going to hide behind two children, think again!! That   
evil thing doesn't even want me! It wants the two of you, because you're magic!!! And I'm the fool who   
didn't stop you brats from using your magic down here! Do you really expect me to cower in a corner   
while that thing kills you!?!"  
  
"Mr. Filch!! Ginny!!" Neville shouted. He's not usually the type who shouts, but it was necessary   
in order to make himself heard.  
  
At the same moment, Mrs. Norris dug her claws into my leg and let out a yowl.  
  
Ginny and I stopped yelling as we noticed what Neville and Mrs. Norris had already seen. The   
stinking vines had caught up with us. The first thin, sickly green creepers were winding their way along   
the floor and the walls in front of us.  
  
"Ginny's right, Mr. Filch. You should stay behind us." Neville said earnestly. "Not because we   
think you're useless. Not at all. You're right, those vines don't want you. And we don't want them to   
circle around in back of us."  
  
Ginny nodded, firmly. "If we stand in front, they'll stay focused on us. If you stand in back,   
maybe they won't close us in! And, you have to stand back there anyhow, so you don't get hurt when   
Neville and I use `Incendio' together."  
  
I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. So, the Gryffindors were thinking on their feet, and   
they had a plan. As plans went, it wasn't too shabby. Professor Snape often makes disparaging comments   
about the strategic abilities of Gryffindors. But Ginny's and Neville's plan wasn't nearly as reckless as   
others I've seen.   
  
For example, there was a certain Slytherin Professor, who wanted to make sure that a certain   
Stone was still well guarded. Oh, he'd insisted that nearly getting his leg bitten off by the Cerebus, wasn't   
part of his plan, but still...  
  
I didn't have the nerve to bring up that subject with Severus any more. But I had once overheard   
Professor Snape sounding off to Minerva and the Headmaster about the thick-headed, "rules don't apply to   
me so I can go off on my own any time I please, risk my neck and damn the consequences" tendencies of   
certain young Gryffindors.  
  
Hands folded, Dumbledore had been waiting quietly and patiently for Severus to run out of   
steam. But Minerva had picked up her handkerchief and coughed into it, delicately.  
  
Her coughs had sounded remarkably like "Fluffy! Fluffy!"  
  
The Headmaster had lost his battle not to grin. (So had I, but thankfully Severus wasn't looking   
in my direction.)  
  
I hoped that we would get out of this somehow, to tell Minerva how her young lions had done her   
proud.  
  
Obediently, I stepped back to let the children confront the encroaching vines. Mrs. Norris stayed   
by my feet.  
  
Reaching into his pocket, Neville turned to me. "Hold Trevor, please, Mr. Filch? I'm worried that   
he might get away from me."  
  
Ugh. I don't much care for toads. But I accepted the cool, moist creature anyhow, cupping the   
hand that wasn't holding the lantern carefully around him. Neville didn't need any additional worries.   
Mrs. Norris gave me a hopeful, peckish look and I glowered at her.  
  
Neville and Ginny had their wands outstretched. With one voice they cried out "INCENDIO!!!"   
  
The resulting blast of mingled heat and magic was so strong that I reeled, even though I stood   
behind the children. The vines burned brightly, filling the corridor with smoke, adding to the strong   
stench of decay. Not one vine touched the children. Not one vine got behind them.  
  
I have always been able to feel the force and power behind the spells used near me. Whether he   
believed it or not, Neville was as powerful a young wizard as his old and noble family could have wished   
for. Still tired from his previous spell, he managed to put a respectable amount of power into this one.   
And Ginny's magic was incandescent, fierce and mighty. It seemed too much for such a small girl to carry   
inside her.  
  
They were strong, yes. But not fully grown and not fully trained. Destroying the horrible thing   
they faced would have taken the combined efforts of several adult wizards and witches. The two children   
could manage to burn the vines to ashes. But the heart and brain of this thing lay somewhere under the   
dirt floor of that storeroom. Someday, Neville and Ginny would have enough power to force their spells   
underground to destroy the creature itself. But, I knew that they could not do such a thing now. The vines   
would be back.  
  
Ginny and Neville surely knew that too.  
  
This victory was only temporary. The children had bought us some time, but we didn't know how   
much.  
  
In the smoky, foul gloom that the light from my lantern barely managed to penetrate, the three of   
us and Mrs. Norris huddled together on the stone floor of the passageway. The children were exhausted. It   
was almost certainly past their bedtime. Neville wearily accepted Trevor back again and slipped the toad   
into his pocket. Ginny leaned against my shoulder. Mrs. Norris was curled up in my lap.  
  
"I wish Professor Dumbledore was here..." Ginny said softly. "Or Professor McGonagall."   
  
"I'd even be glad to see Professor Snape..." Neville said, wryly.   
  
We were going to die. Minerva had trusted me to teach the children a hard lesson, and I had   
certainly outdone myself this time.   
  
A few weeks earlier, Professor Snape had destroyed a scroll, a piece of Dark Magic, that could   
have awakened my own power. The cost would have been high; I would have had to sell myself to the   
Dark Lord, piece by piece. Severus had trusted me enough to know that I would refuse. And I had.  
  
But if the Dark Lord were to come before me right now I knew that I would have given him   
anything he wanted from me, if he would only give me the power to save Ginny and Neville and Mrs.   
Norris.  
  
"I hate being a useless squib..." I said, bitterly. "I'm so sorry!"  
  
"Mr. Filch!" Ginny sounded like I'd broken her heart. "It's not your fault..."  
  
"Yes, it is," I growled, "but self-pity isn't going to help us any. Don't worry, I'm not going to   
keep going on and on about it. I'm sorry, and I just wanted the two of you to know. Why don't you try to   
rest for a bit? I'll wake you when the vines come back."  
  
Neither child thought they would be able to fall asleep, but Neville was soon snoring, his head   
against my shoulder. Ginny was curled up against my side, which made my ribs hurt terribly. I didn't   
have the heart to move her.  
  
Mrs. Norris and I stayed awake, staring at my oil lantern. The light was getting dim.  
  
"Well," I said to my cat, ruefully, "Who would ever have thought it'd end like this? I always   
thought that caring about a couple of students would be the very last thing I'd ever do. Guess I was right."   
  
END OF CHAPTER FOUR  
  
(Chapter Five coming soon!)  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Kaylynne: You're welcome! And Thank You!! Your story, "The Squib," gave me inspiration for the next   
chapter, which I have almost finished writing.  
  
Lataradk: Thank You!! This story is turning out to be longer than I thought it would be...  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank You!! Filch agrees with you. He thinks that Ginny and Neville should let   
him protect them, but the children think it's their duty to protect him...  
  
Gramarye: Thank You!! Filch can't help but remember Cedric Diggory and how unfair he was to the poor   
boy. It's a wrong he did that can never be put right.  
  
Elspeth: Thank You!! The magic-eating vine-beastie is something new. I don't actually have a name for it   
yet. Neville is brave, and he's the sort who always comes through in a pinch.   
  
Rabbit: Thank You!!  
  
Lyansidde: Thank You!!  
  
  
  
5 


	5. Tapestries

Squib Doors  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Squib and The Death Eaters"  
Chapter 5: Tapestries  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Hogwarts has been my home for a very long time. For years now, I've seldom willingly strayed   
far from the Castle. My place is here. My work is here. I am sadly out of step with events in the world   
outside this school. And the Wizarding world can be a dangerous place for even the most powerful   
wizards. Imagine how much worse it can be for a squib.  
  
The dungeons have become my haven within the Castle. Hogwarts' dungeons are quiet and   
clean. No one knows them better than I, with the possible exception of Professor Snape.  
  
I never expected to die in the dungeons of Hogwarts. But the worst thing about the situation was   
that I wasn't going to die alone.  
  
Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom were doomed as well. Two children who should have   
had years ahead of them; time enough to grow into their powerful magic.   
  
My poor, sweet cat, Mrs. Norris, who should have had the sense to choose a proper wizard for a   
companion, was also going to die.  
  
I even felt a bit maudlin about Trevor, Neville's toad. At least Trevor was resting in the boy's   
pocket, digesting a bellyful of spiders. He would never know what had hit him.  
  
The air was so full of smoke and the stench of decay that we could barely breathe. Ginny had just   
driven back the foul, creeping runners of the vine-beast for a third time. It had been a very near thing.   
  
During the battle a vine had wrapped itself around Neville's arm. The boy's agonized scream had   
torn a hole through my heart. Earlier, the vines had wrapped themselves around me, leaving terrible   
bruises and what felt like the beginnings of a painful rash on my throat, chest and back. But I'd gotten off   
lightly compared to what the vine's touch had done to Neville's poor arm.  
  
He'd been burned, as if by dragonfire.  
  
Ginny had screamed out his name, and renewed her own fiery assault on the vines, keeping them   
back. I'd ripped the vile things off Neville with my bare hands. Those vines would have to pull me to   
pieces before I would let them touch either of the children again!  
  
Face white, body quivering with shock and pain, Neville had trembled in my arms while Ginny   
shouted terrible things at the vines, words that she'd probably learned from those wretched twin brothers   
of hers. I had learned to judge each member of Ginny's family on his or her own merits. (I'd gotten a   
double-dose of that lesson after Fred and George had followed Percy to Hogwarts!) Plentiful amounts of   
courage, red hair and freckles were the only givens when dealing with Weasleys. Little Ginny shared the   
good qualities her elder brothers had, but she possessed a deep, inner strength that was all her own.  
  
Alone, with Neville in too much agony to help her, she'd driven the vines back. She was already   
quivering with fatigue from the earlier battles, and all three of us knew that this respite would be our last.   
  
The monster remained safely buried beneath the dirt floor of the dingy storeroom. It would send   
out more creeping vines and we no longer had the strength to fight for our lives.  
  
My lantern had gone out. There was no more oil. Ginny conjured a small, floating light to help   
her see while she kept a cooling charm on Neville's burned arm. Neville slowly stopped trembling. It   
didn't matter any more if Ginny used her magic. The monster knew right where to find us.  
  
During the latest onslaught, some of the vines had gotten behind us when I'd been ripping their   
cousins off poor Neville. The wall behind us was now burned black from Ginny's last Incendio spell. I   
leaned against the filthy wall and cradled Neville while Ginny worked on him.  
  
Mrs. Norris stood by Ginny's side, faintly singed around the edges and smelling of smoke. Her   
golden eyes stared intently down the passageway. She'd clearly appointed herself our lookout.   
  
The boy looked at me, a faint smile on his pale face.   
  
"Thank you, Mr. Filch. You and Ginny both saved me. I guess I owe you a wizard's debt now."  
  
"You and Ginny have both saved each other tonight, Neville. All your debts are repaid. And   
you've both already saved me too. Though I'm not sure if a squib can be owed a wizard's debt, or if a   
squib can repay one either... I've never asked anyone."  
  
Neville looked at me curiously. Perhaps talking helped to keep his mind off the pain. "Have you   
ever met another squib, Mr. Filch?"  
  
"I don't know. It's generally not the sort of thing that people just announce about themselves."  
  
"I thought I was a squib. My family did too. For ages."  
  
There was a familiar world of pain in his words.  
  
"No one wanted to talk about it with you, did they?" I said, softly. "And you felt afraid..."  
  
Neville nodded.  
  
"Ashamed, guilty... " I continued.   
  
Another nod.  
  
"You must have been so relieved when you discovered you were a wizard after all," I said, for   
once sounding more wistful than bitter.  
  
"What... what did your family do?" Neville asked me. "Once they were sure?"   
  
I knew how hard it had been for him to ask that question. Not many grown wizards and witches   
have had the courage to ask me that.  
  
He deserved an honest answer. "My mother cried," I said. "All the time, when she thought I   
couldn't hear her. She blamed herself. Perhaps she hadn't said the proper protective charms before I was   
born. Perhaps she'd used some dangerous spells while carrying me, or maybe it was the boggart who'd   
frightened her when she was six months along. Whenever one of her friends began to talk about how well   
their children were doing with their magical studies, her face would just go still."  
  
These memories still hurt. I had never talked about this, with anyone. "The year that the   
children my age were starting their first year at Hogwarts I spent being dragged off to one Healer after   
another. Of course, none of them could tell Mum what she wanted to hear." I murmured.  
  
"What about your father?" Neville asked me.  
  
I sighed. "The poor man could hardly bear to look at me. His friends were telling him stories   
about people they knew who had managed to "cure" a squib. I overheard a few of those tales myself. There   
was one about a boy who'd been tied hand and foot, placed in a sack and tossed in a river. ("He's about to   
start his fifth year at Durmstrang, now!" the boy's proud uncle had told my father.) I'd also overheard   
stories about squibs being locked in closets, hung up by their thumbs, smothered with pillows and dropped   
from brooms. An old wizard who worked with my father even swore that he could "beat the magic right   
into me, with a stick!"  
  
Ginny was looking at me, horrified, her eyes filling with tears.  
  
Neville was nodding again, with a rueful smile. "Great Uncle Algie wouldn't have done any of   
the really awful things. But he did almost drown me once, by accident. What did your father do?"  
  
"Nothing. He was a very gentle man. Not much like me at all. Those stories made him go pale.   
But I could tell he was blaming himself for not wanting to do something, anything, as long as there was a   
chance it would make me be like everyone else."  
  
"They must have told you it wasn't your fault." Ginny said, her voice soft.   
  
"They did. I still blamed myself for hurting them, disappointing them."  
  
"It wasn't your fault!" Ginny said, vehemently.   
  
"It can be hard to know when something's not your fault..." I pointed out. "You know that,   
Ginny.  
  
"They still loved you, didn't they?" Neville asked, looking wistful.  
  
"Yes, they did. Very much." I looked at Neville and realized, for the first time in my life, how   
lucky I'd been. In spite of all the pain of those years, at least my parents had been there to tell me that I   
was loved. This realization was bittersweet, since my poor parents are long dead. But it was a gift, and it   
was totally unexpected.  
  
I smiled at Neville and brushed the hair back from his sweaty face,  
  
"My mum has a second cousin who's a squib," Ginny murmured.  
  
"Really? What does he do with himself?" I asked, genuinely curious.   
  
Ginny looked embarrassed. "We don't talk about him much. Not because he's a squib," she   
hastened to assure me. "The family was terribly hurt and angry when he ran away to live with Muggles.   
He's an accountant, now. I think, maybe, he works at a bank, like a sort of Goblin."  
  
I sighed. "I thought of doing that, long ago. Not working at a bank... running off to live with   
Muggles. But I was too afraid. It would have meant leaving everyone and everything I ever knew. It would   
have meant admitting to myself that I would never be able to use magic like a normal person. Your   
mother's cousin sounds as brave as all rest of your family."  
  
"I never thought about it that way..." Ginny said.   
  
Then she said, "I don't feel brave! I'm frightened. I don't want to just sit here and wait for the   
vines to come back! Neville, when you feel up to it, would you like to go back to that storeroom with me?   
We may not be able to beat that thing, but at least it will know it's been in a fight!"  
  
"I think it knows that already..." I said, looking at them proudly.  
  
Both children smiled.  
  
"I'd like to come too, if you don't mind," I said. "Touching those things isn't nearly as hard on   
me as it would be on either of you. Being a squib has worked to my advantage, for once. It's a pity there   
aren't more of us here. Squibs, I mean. With enough of us to grab hold of that monster perhaps we could   
even dig it out of the ground and hold it down for you witches and wizards to finish off properly..."  
  
"I'm ready now, Ginny..." Neville said. "Let's go."   
  
This was clearly a lie. The boy was still so pale. Without Ginny's cooling charm he would have   
been in awful pain. He would barely be able to stand up, yet.  
  
"I can't stand waiting either..." Neville confessed. "I just want to... to get it over with."  
  
Ginny and I exchanged a look.  
  
"It's all right. We can wait a little bit longer, Neville," she said softly. Mrs. Norris rubbed against   
Ginny and the girl picked her up and cuddled her. Then my cat leaped lightly down from Ginny's arms to   
resume her duties as lookout.  
  
I had never felt so useless in my life. Why did these brave, good children have to be trapped here   
with me?   
  
Oh, I've been fond of students before, here and there. There have always been some that don't   
seem as bratty as the rest. Generally it takes me a few years to figure out which children I mind the least.   
Sometimes I don't even know that I am fond of a particular child until that child leaves the school at the   
end of their seventh year.   
  
Or leaves forever, in another way.  
  
(I'm sorry, Cedric.)  
  
Sometimes, years after I've figured out that a child wasn't so bad, the child comes back to teach   
at the Castle, as Severus Snape had done.  
  
I've never known quite how to treat the children I'm fond of. I'm not Hagrid, who has brats   
underfoot at all hours, feeding them tea and those horrid rock cakes he makes. I've always thought that   
the kindest thing I could do was simply leave them alone.  
  
I wished I'd chosen a different detention for Ginny and Neville.  
  
This latest plan of theirs was pure reckless Gryffindor courage. A final, doomed charge into   
certain death. It was a waste. It was so unfair...!  
  
I could not think of a better plan, though.   
  
The Castle wall was cold against my back. I leaned against it and sighed. This wall shouldn't   
even be here. Behind it, in other parts of the dungeon, maybe someone was trying to reach us? The   
thought had occurred to me before, but I hadn't said anything about it to the children, not wanting to give   
them false hope. If someone on the other side of the wall could reach us, they would have done so by now.  
  
Such a dirty wall... blackened by smoke and the ashy residue from the vines. Absurdly, I felt a   
desire to give it a good scrubbing.  
  
At my back, I felt a tingle of awareness. Something I've felt before, only a few times in all my   
years as caretaker. I don't know what it is. It's definitely magic, but nothing human, nothing alive in the   
normal sense.   
  
Sometimes I have wondered if it is the Castle itself. The sensation is very strange and   
frightening, and I usually shrink from it, like a terrified first year. I've never had the courage to ask the   
Headmaster about it, and he's the only one who might understand. (If he doesn't know what I'm talking   
about, then I'm afraid he'll think I've lost my mind.)  
  
Now, weary beyond belief, I closed my eyes and just let the feeling wash over me.  
  
"Please..." I thought. "Please...!"  
  
Our need was too great for any further words.  
  
"Mr. Filch...?" I heard Ginny say.  
  
"I think he's asleep." That was Neville. His voice was still tight with pain, but it sounded like   
he'd stood up.  
  
"He wanted to come with us," Neville added.  
  
"There's no reason for him to die too," Ginny said.  
  
Please...  
  
"He'll be angry if we don't wake him. He won't think of it as a kindness, Ginny. You know that."  
  
Please...!  
  
"Mr. Filch?" Ginny was shaking me. But I couldn't move.  
  
The magical something at my back had grown stronger. Behind me, the wall was changing.  
  
My heart was hammering, I was covered with sweat. I felt like I had run a mile. The magic had   
not come from inside me. It didn't belong to me. But I'd cried out to something with all my strength, and   
that something had answered.  
  
"Where did that tapestry come from?" Neville gasped.  
  
My eyes were still shut, but I didn't need to look to know what was behind me. A nondescript   
tapestry. The colors so dull, it was hard to see if the tapestry had scenes on it or just patterns. The boring   
sort of thing that most people's eyes just usually sort of slide over, without really seeing.   
  
Like many of the very old, rare and magical things inside the Castle, this tapestry was not what it   
appeared to be.  
  
I know the doors of the Castle. When their hinges creak, when their knobs get dingy, when the   
students have covered them with fingerprints and even worse muck, who comes to put them to rights   
again? The doors that insist on being tickled, the doors that like to be asked politely, these doors open for   
me without wasting my time with any nonsense. They know I have work to do. (And if I do sometimes   
oblige them with a tickle or a kind word, when no one else is looking, then the doors are wise enough to   
keep my secrets.)  
  
Not all the doors at Hogwarts have knobs and hinges.  
  
Inside Hogwarts Castle there are four similar tapestries. Each one so dull and faded that the few   
people who notice them probably wonder why no one has thrown the ugly things out. I think of these   
tapestries as the wandering doors.  
  
The doors seem to travel randomly around the Castle. Sometimes I don't see any of them for   
months. That strange surge of magic had never been connected with them before. And this was the first   
time that one of the doors had ever come to me when I'd called.  
  
"Ginny! Neville!" My voice sounded very weak. I opened my eyes, to see their white, frightened   
faces. "Everything's going to be all right. We're going to get out of here! We can walk through this   
tapestry."  
  
I reached in back of me to show them. My arm disappeared. I held my other hand out towards the   
children. My hand was shaking. "It's too dark for me to see which one this is... there's four of them. They   
move around but each one always lets me out in a particular place, whenever I use them. We'll come out   
near the Library, or the Trophy room, or near my office, or up in the Owlery."  
  
"Anywhere is better than here!" Neville said, sincerely.  
  
Mrs. Norris started to hiss, her fur standing on end.  
  
The vines were coming back.  
  
"Hurry, I hissed.   
  
Ginny was closest to me. I grabbed her hand and stepped through the tapestry, pulling her along.   
Or I tried to. I was able to go forward, into the trophy room. But Ginny's hand had slipped from mine   
somehow!  
  
I returned through the tapestry to find her sitting on the floor, rubbing her head.  
  
"It won't let me in...." she said, dazed.  
  
"Impossible!" I cried. "I go through them all the time. If I can do it, surely you can too." I helped   
Ginny up and reached out to grab Neville's unburned arm. "Come on!" I told Mrs. Norris.  
  
My cat and I emerged safely into the trophy room. But no Ginny! No Neville!  
  
Snarling the foulest oaths I could think of, I went back through again for the children.  
  
Both of them were sitting on the floor, looking stunned.   
  
"Ginny's right, Mr. Filch," Neville said, tears in his voice. "We both really tried. We ran at it,   
like we do at Platform Nine and Three Quarters! It won't let us in!"  
  
The looks on their faces broke my heart. I'd offered them hope and then snatched it away!  
  
Turning, I pounded my fists against the tapestry and screamed in rage and frustration, ignoring   
the pain in my hands.  
  
"It's all right, Mr. Filch..." Ginny said, very softly. "You can go through and get help for us."  
  
She and Neville had risen to their feet, wands drawn.  
  
All of us heard the vines slithering closer. Their stench was overpowering.  
  
"INCENDIO!" Ginny cried, her voice cracking.  
  
"INCENDIO!" Still in pain, poor Neville sounded like he was at the end of his strength.  
  
"Go on, Mr. Filch..." Neville told me. "You'd better hurry... we won't last long."  
  
"Damn right you won't!" I growled at him. "I'm not leaving you! If this cursed thing won't let   
me bring you through, what makes you think I'll be able to bring anyone back to help you? I don't   
understand what's wrong!!!"  
  
"Maybe," Ginny paused to blast a vine, "that tapestry has an anti-wizard spell. Like an anti-  
Muggle spell. Except in reverse..."  
  
"What would be the point of a bloody stupid spell like that?" I wailed.   
  
The children were too busy to reply.  
  
I felt Mrs. Norris brush against my feet. Unwilling to leave my side for months now, she'd   
followed me back into danger, through the tapestry.  
  
"What's wrong with you??" I cried. "I don't care if you do have nine lives!! Someone here has to   
do the sensible thing! I suppose it's come down to you. Go for help!"  
  
With the Headmaster away for the evening, for a meeting with the Minister, Professor   
McGonagall was in charge of the Castle. And Mrs. Norris would have no trouble making Minerva   
understand her.  
  
Not giving my cat a chance to argue, I picked her up and pushed her, none too gently, back out   
into the trophy room.  
  
"If all goes well, the three of us will be right behind you!" I called after her. My fingers hurt too   
much to cross, so I hoped it wasn't a fib.  
  
An anti-wizard spell, Ginny had said. Like an anti-Muggle spell in reverse. Clever girl. She'd   
given me an idea.  
  
I wasn't sure if what I was about to try would work. But, if Ginny's theory was right, I'd been   
through something like this before. As a "passenger."  
  
I knew I could never manage to do this twice. Being the "passenger" had been bad enough. I   
refused to choose a child to leave behind. All three of us would make it through, or none of us would.  
  
Stepping up behind the children I wrapped one arm around Ginny's waist, and the other around   
Neville's. Ginny was a small girl, but Neville had grown a good deal over the last year. I dragged them   
both backwards, and they struggled.  
  
"Don't fight me!" I shouted. "I've got a plan. If it doesn't work, I'm sorry. Even if it does work,   
I'm sorry! I'm afraid that this is going to feel really dreadful, but there's no help for it! Please, try to trust   
me!"  
  
Moving as slowly as I dared, my arms locked tightly around the children, I pulled all three of us   
into the tapestry together.  
  
END OF CHAPTER FIVE  
(Chapter Six coming soon!)  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
My inspiration for the way out of Filch's, Ginny's and Neville's predicament came from a wonderful story   
called "The Squib" by Kaylynne! Thank you, Kaylynne!!! And some more inspiration from you is coming   
up in Chapter Six.  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Here's another chapter! (My kids are away at a sleepover, the house is all quiet and   
I'm on a ROLL!)  
  
Elspeth: Filch would be honored to have been Sorted into Hufflepuff, House of the hardest workers, and of   
Cedric Diggory. All three of your guesses are partly right!  
  
Leila C. Snape: Thank you!!! Filch is interesting, and I really like the relationship between him and   
Snape.  
  
Arcee: Neville and Ginny are good hearted children. Professor McGonagal asked them to help Filch as   
much as they possibly could. He's really not fully recovered from what happened to him in this story's   
prequel.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you!!  
  
  
  
  
  
8 


	6. Another Vine Mess

Squib Doors   
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Squib and The Death Eaters"  
Chapter 6: Another Vine Mess  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Muggle-repelling spells can be dreadful things. The strongest ones can crawl over my skin like a   
thousand small, biting ants, sting like salt in an open wound, or make me feel like I'm being turned inside   
out. When I'm in the vicinity of a powerful anti-Muggle spell, the fact that they do not actually repel me   
seems like a very small comfort.  
  
The spell of this type that takes the prize for the most uncomfortable of all is the one that protects   
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at Kings Cross station. That's the one that wrenches me inside out. I'm   
grateful that it's been a while since I've felt any compelling reason to go to Kings Cross.  
  
Squibs, like me, are a rarity in the Wizarding world. To my knowledge, no one has ever written a   
handy manual for squibs on "How To Get Yourself Past a Strong Muggle-Repelling Spell Without Getting   
Violently Sick All Over Your Shoes Immediately Afterwards." Perhaps, if I should ever figure out a way   
to accomplish this feat, I'll write a such manual myself. I might make a few galleons. And, unlike those   
charlatans responsible for the Kwikspell Course, I will be providing a legitimate service.  
  
The title of Chapter One would definitely be: "Squibs! Ignore What They're Telling You!" For   
example, everyone says that you should enter the platform at Kings Cross at a run. This works if you are a   
proper witch or wizard. But, if you're a squib, you will probably just crack your fool head open.  
  
Hard work and pain are the best teachers, I always say. And, after plenty of both, I have learned a   
great deal about the ways that squibs can react to different sorts of Muggle-repelling spells. My advice   
would be to observe what the proper witches and wizards are doing, and then try to do exactly the   
opposite. To use Kings Cross as an example again; the only way to get onto the platform, if you're a squib,   
is to take it v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y.  
  
And, even then, you will not be able to do it on your own. A proper witch or wizard, hopefully   
one that you can trust, must help you, staying right at your side.   
  
The actual spell will probably make you feel as though you are being slowly taken apart and then   
put back together with your pieces scrambled. And it's best to have a paper sack handy. It's bad manners   
to thank the witch or wizard who has helped you by vomiting up every morsel you've eaten that day all   
over him or her.   
  
I did just that to Hagrid once. Though he'd deserved it. The oaf thought that getting me blind   
drunk first would actually help. I was foolish enough to give it a try. I thought it wouldn't do any harm   
and might just do me some good. How wrong I was. I couldn't keep any solid food down for days. Mrs.   
Norris was so annoyed with Hagrid. She followed him around for a week, just to make him sneeze.   
  
The point, that your companion must be someone you can trust not to talk you into doing   
something stupid, can not be emphasized enough.  
  
Yes, all the various types of anti-Muggle spells are old, familiar thorns in my side. There are   
many that I've become accustomed to, after repeated exposure, and am no longer bothered by.   
  
Wizard-repelling spells, however, are quite new to me.  
  
My right arm was locked tightly around Neville Longbottom, my left one around Ginny   
Weasley. At a snail's pace, I crept along with the children through one of the four ancient wandering   
doors of Hogwarts Castle.  
  
The wandering doors are tapestries; faded, worn, ugly things that no one ever usually looks at   
twice. I've often used them as convenient shortcuts when I have a busier than usual schedule of jobs to do,   
or when I'm hot on the trail of a rule-breaking student. I had sometimes wondered if anyone else at the   
Castle ever used the tapestries. Even the professors seemed to always take the long way around. Until   
Ginny and Neville had failed in their attempts to use the tapestry, I hadn't known there was such a thing   
as a wizard-repelling spell.  
  
Until very recently, I was not sure if I had any magic in me at all. Less than a month ago,   
Professor Snape had shown me that I did, in a place I couldn't reach. Apparently, this wizard-repelling   
spell couldn't reach my magic either, for the spell didn't affect me in the slightest.  
  
Poor Ginny and poor Neville, however, were a different matter. Taking the children through the   
tapestry felt like dragging them through chest-deep sludgy water. Both children were trembling hard. I   
could hear Neville moaning.  
  
I clutched them even tighter and slogged onwards, hoping that was not a vine I felt brushing   
across the top of my head.  
  
When my right foot finally emerged onto the floor of the trophy room, I gathered my remaining   
strength and slowly pushed the children through ahead of me.   
  
If the vines had actually managed to follow us through the tapestry I would have to block them   
somehow. Those foul things must not get through to harm the children and infest the Castle!  
  
I could hear the poor children gasping and retching as I reached up to grab the long, thin creeper   
that had been trying to get past me. But, as I let go of the children, the resistance slowing me down   
vanished and suddenly, both the vine and I were in the trophy room. And, emerging from the tapestry,   
there were more of the foul-smelling sickly green things down at my feet!  
  
In Mighty Merlin's Name... what had I done?!  
  
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!!" screeched a familiar voice.   
"Students spewing their guts up all over the trophy room floor! I'm going to get Filch!! OY! FIL..."  
  
Peeves had been floating up near the ceiling of the trophy room. From the look of things he'd   
been making stalactites on the ceiling with toilet paper that had been soaked in water.  
  
His sharp little eyes bulged when he saw me there, wrestling with the vines. I could feel the evil   
green things quivering. It wanted to snack on young witches and wizards, but apparently, a poltergeist   
was even more delicious.  
  
"FLY, Peeves!!!" I shrieked, trying to grab the vine that was coiling up towards him. The vine   
whipped around, dragging me off my feet and up into the air with it. "Go get help, you wretched...!"  
  
Instead, the foolish poltergeist came closer to see what I was doing! The vine's tip snapped   
forward and touched one of Peeves' dangling feet.  
  
He screamed.  
  
My heart stood still. I had never heard him make a sound like that before. Arms wrapped tightly   
around the vine, I twisted it away from the poltergeist, cracking it like whip.  
  
Peeves was clutching his foot and whimpering. He'd never done that before either.  
  
The two vines that had come out through the tapestry near my feet were snaking towards Ginny   
and Neville, who were still being mercilessly sick on the floor.  
  
Oh, Blessed Ambrosius! What had I *done??*  
  
There was the sudden pattering of small, light feet. Mrs. Norris, who always comes through for   
me, ran into the trophy room, followed by another cat, a sleek tabby with square markings around her   
eyes.  
  
An instant later, Minerva McGonagall, black hair coming undone and flowing like a waterfall   
down her back, pointed her wand at the vines.   
  
"DOWN!" She ordered me.  
  
I let go of the vine I was holding and fell to the floor, landing with a painful thump.  
  
"INCENDIO!" Minerva roared like a lioness, seeing her cubs in danger.  
  
Her spell scorched along the floor, incinerating the vines menacing the children. The spell that   
destroyed the vine attacking Peeves was cast only a heartbeat later. Ashes and smoke and the stench of   
decay filled the trophy room. The vine-creature was no longer facing a squib and a half-grown witch and   
wizard! I could almost feel the monster deep in the dungeon wailing in agony as Professor McGonagall's   
power found its way down to the creature's heart! She'd wounded it!  
  
"Neville, Ginny, Argus! What are you doing up here in the trophy room?!" Minerva gasped.   
"We've been down in the dungeons for the past few hours trying to get through that wall! None of the   
ghosts could get through... not even the Baron...! Ever since Severus said that something was terribly   
wrong down there...!" She broke off, staring at the children.  
  
"Oh, Neville, your poor arm! Ginny, are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine, Professor," Ginny said, though her small, dirty face was white as ashes.  
  
"It's not that bad, Professor," Neville said, still huddled around his burned arm   
  
"I'm sorry, Minerva," I said, miserably. "I never meant for their detention to be this   
imaginative..."  
  
"HELLLP!!" Peeves had found his voice again. "CASTLE UNDER ATTACK!!!"  
  
Eyes snapping viciously, the poltergeist flew down at me, rubbing his wounded foot.   
  
"*HE* did it!!! Old Filch! Dragged all that mess in here. Stinking filth! Puking students! Vines   
that HURT! Befouling the Castle! All his fault!"  
  
I buried my face in my hands. The wretched poltergeist was absolutely right.   
  
The monster had been hidden in a dungeon storeroom; dormant for who knows how long, in a   
place only I ever visited.   
  
I'd been the one who'd chosen to give Ginny and Neville the detention that had brought us to   
that storeroom in the first place. I'd been the one who'd allowed them to cast the spells that had awakened   
the thing!  
  
The creature had nearly killed Neville and Ginny. I would never forgive myself for that.  
  
I'd been responsible for dragging the creature along with us to the trophy room. What if Minerva   
hadn't come in time to fight it? The vines might have gotten a foothold there, causing more harm and   
destruction. My fault.  
  
From the sound of things, Severus had been aware of the situation, almost from the beginning.   
He'd alerted the others. Minerva had said that they'd been trying to reach us for hours. Hours of worry!   
All my fault.  
  
"When the Headmaster comes back he should punish Old Filch!! Ought to put him in chains and   
BEAT HIM!!" the poltergeist cried.  
  
I could not picture Dumbledore doing such a thing. But, if he did, I'd deserve it.  
  
"Peeves, that's enough!" Minerva said, sharply.  
  
A draft of icy air announced the arrival of one of the ghosts.  
  
"Professor, the new wall in the dungeon has vanished!" Nearly Headless Nick reported crisply, as   
he rose through the trophy room floor. "The other Professors are engaging the creature!!"  
  
"Thank you, Sir Nicholas," Minerva said. "Tell the others I'll be back down, directly."  
  
Not even fully emerged from the floor, Nearly Headless Nick began to sink out of sight again. A   
Gryffindor from his barely-attached head, down to his toes, he was obviously eager to return to the battle.  
  
"Be careful, Nick!!" Ginny shouted after him. "Those vines can hurt ghosts!"  
  
And if any of the professors, or the ghosts were injured... that would be my fault too.  
  
"Argus," Minerva said, gently pulling my hands away from my face. "How did you and children   
get up here? We thought that you were trapped!"  
  
"We used the door..." I said, faintly.  
  
"What door?"   
  
I looked past her, at the wall where the tapestry had been. It was gone, probably off to some   
remote part of the castle to recover from its ordeal. I didn't think I'd be seeing that particular tapestry for   
a while. Maybe not for years, after this. I couldn't blame it for wanting nothing to do with me.  
  
"Never mind, you can tell me later." Minerva looked at all three of us, sternly. "Get yourselves to   
the hospital wing! Can you walk? If not, I'll conjure stretchers."  
  
"We can walk," Neville said. "Don't worry about us. Go and help the other teachers!"  
  
"You'll find that vine monster under the dirt floor of a storeroom down the fourth dead end   
passage, headed away from Mr. Filch's office..." Ginny said.  
  
"You'd better show her, my sweet..." I whispered to Mrs. Norris.   
  
My cat glowered at me.  
  
"Don't worry, Mrs. Norris," Ginny said. "Neville and I will look after him, I promise."  
  
Fixing the girl with a golden stare that said plainly "See that you do!" my cat turned and ran out   
of the trophy room.  
  
Minerva was back in her Animagus form and running at my cat's side, before we could even   
blink.  
  
"Nasty Old Filch is going to be in so much TROUBLE!!!" Peeves said gleefully.  
  
Both young Gryffindors glared at him.   
  
"You know, there are a plenty of vines where those came from..." Neville said, in a pleasant,   
conversational tone.  
  
"And we could easily go and fetch some more if you'd like..." Ginny said, sweetly.  
  
Peeves fled, vanishing through the ceiling.  
  
"Come on, Mr. Filch, up you get..." Neville reached out with his good arm to help me up.  
  
"Ginny, Neville, I'm so very sorry about all this..."  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry about!" Ginny said fiercely. "You were very brave, and you saved   
our lives. I don't care if you're a squib. I owe you a wizard's debt!"  
  
"So do I," Neville said, equally firm.  
  
"B-but..."  
  
"Hush," Ginny soothed me. "Now, come on. We promised Mrs. Norris and Professor   
McGonagall that we'd go to the hospital wing. You don't want to get them angry do you?"  
  
I was certain that they were already very angry at me.  
  
And Headmaster Dumbledore was going to be even angrier!  
  
But none of this would be Ginny's or Neville's headache. Just mine.  
  
Leaning on each other, the three of us headed into the corridor.  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER SIX  
  
(Chapter Seven coming, as soon as possible, though probably not quickly as the last several chapters   
came.)  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Again, my heartfelt thanks to Kaylynne and her wonderful story, "The Squib." Filch's rant about Kings   
Cross station was inspired by that story.  
  
RioRaptor: Say "Hi" to Shadow when she wakes up!   
  
Jorsen: Thank you!!!  
  
Jazzofborg: Thank you!!! Professor Snape was aware of the problem in the dungeons almost immediately,   
and he alerted the rest of the staff. (If he hadn't been nearby, Professor McGonagall would have   
discovered something was wrong. She knew what the detention would be, and where it would be. Filch   
had given her a time estimate.) When the passage sealed itself off, no one could get in, not even the   
ghosts.   
  
Lataradk: The thought of using the lamp oil as a potential weapon did cross my mind, but Filch decided   
that he wanted to use it to see. The kids needed to rest and couldn't sustain a light-spell in their sleep. He   
didn't want the vines to sneak up on them in the dark.  
  
Awww, I could never let anything bad happen to Trevor! Besides, no one knows where he's been! ;-)  
  
Andolyn: YAAAAAAY!!! You're back!!!! Welcome back!!!! And thank you for the very kind words on   
my stories!!! Voldemort doesn't need to be given the vine-creature, since it sort of came from him in the   
first place... it was "planted" in the storeroom by Barty Crouch, junior, when he was masquerading as   
Mad Eye Moody.  
  
Rabbit: Thank you and Thank you!!!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!!! I thought it would be heartbreaking to have a squib-child too, for both the child and   
the family.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
6 


	7. Squib's Magic

Squib Doors  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "The Squib and The Death Eaters"  
Chapter 7: Squib's Magic  
Everything in this story really belongs to J. K. Rowling.  
  
  
  
"Show me, Argus. If you please."   
  
The Headmaster's voice was kind. He looked and sounded unusually tired. No wonder. He'd been   
up all night, as he's been too often lately. First, he'd had a long and fruitless meeting with the Minister of   
Magic. The Minister still stubbornly refused to believe that the Dark Lord had returned, despite all the   
evidence Dumbledore could present to the contrary.   
  
(Minerva had said, angrily, that the Minister's head was permanently stuck in the ground, like an   
ostrich. Hagrid had growled, under his breath, that the Minister's head was permanently stuck   
somewhere quite different. Privately, I agreed with Hagrid. Usually I would have said that one must show   
proper respect for the position, if not for the wizard who holds it, but the Minister's stubborn blindness   
continued to defy all belief.)  
  
Albus Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts Castle, his school and safe haven for young witches   
and wizards, to find that the Castle had been invaded from within.   
  
After a furious battle, the professors, aided by the ghosts, had destroyed a monstrous, magic-  
eating vine creature who'd been lurking underground beneath the dungeons, under the dirt floor of a   
little-used storeroom.   
  
The battle, the creature's death throes, and the subsequent, still continuing, exhumation of the   
vanquished monster and its endless creepers, roots, vines and tendrils, had left much of the dungeons in a   
shambles. Two students had nearly lost their lives. Several professors had been burned by the vines' touch,   
though thankfully, none very seriously.  
  
Albus Dumbledore had not been to bed yet. It didn't look as if he would have a chance to take a   
rest any time soon.  
  
The Trophy Room of the Castle was a shambles too, though not nearly as bad as the dungeons   
were. At least someone had cleaned up the floor, where poor Ginny and Neville had been sick. But the   
place still stank of decay, the air was hazy with smoke and there were ashes everywhere.  
  
"B-but, Headmaster..." I stammered in response to his request, "I don't know if I can do it   
again."  
  
Dumbledore looked at me, disappointment in his eyes. I flinched and stared at the floor.  
  
I blamed myself for what had happened at the Castle last night. I did not know if I could do what   
Dumbledore wanted me to do. I didn't know if I really wanted to succeed. Part of what I'd been able to do   
had terrified me.  
  
But I put my bandaged hands against the filthy trophy room wall. I had to try. I owed him that   
much.  
  
Please... I thought, quivering inside. Is Anything there?  
  
Silence.  
  
The Headmaster hadn't blamed me for any of it. He hadn't shouted at me or sacked me. He   
hadn't punished me any way.  
  
I kept trying.   
  
Severus Snape stood a little apart from Dumbledore and me, in the shadows. The exhaustion   
evident in his pale, strained face and in every line of his thin, black clad body, made me cringe in   
sympathy.  
  
Professor Snape can be quite ...territorial about the dungeons. He doesn't simply teach classes   
there, his rooms and his office are down there as well. I'd heard that his rooms had escaped serious   
damage. His classroom and office had been nearly destroyed. (I felt dreadfully guilty, because my own   
office had barely been touched.)  
  
But the dungeons of Hogwarts held something even more precious to Severus. Thankfully, the   
long, creeping vines of the creature had not even come close to the underground dormitories of Slytherin   
House.   
  
Severus had taken no chances with his Slytherins. The first one of the professors to notice   
something amiss, he'd alerted the others, even as he'd been busy evacuating the children of his house up   
to the safety of the Great Hall to sleep for the night.  
  
I'd overheard other professors saying that Severus had fought the creature like a demon-crazed   
warlock. The battle had cost him dearly. Severus was still trying to recover from the Cruciatus Curse. The   
long, strife-filled night he'd just had was affecting him, visibly, even more than Dumbledore. His face was   
nearly as white as one of the ghosts. His eyes were hollow and had bruised-looking shadows under them.  
  
The Headmaster had asked Snape to fetch me from the hospital wing. Severus had swept into the   
ward, trailing his black robes and his customary aura of menace. The expression on his pale face when he   
looked at me had been so cold that Ginny and Neville had clearly been afraid for me. Even ill and tired,   
Severus could be terrifying.  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see him. In the Trophy Room. Now." Snape had said to   
Poppy, not even acknowledging me or the children.  
  
He hadn't needed to drag me out of there by my ear. I felt so guilty and wretched that I stood up   
immediately to follow him.  
  
"Oooh... Filch is in *tro-ub-le!*" Peeves had said in a soft sing-song voice. The poltergeist had   
been in the hospital wing, soaking his damaged foot in a pail of water. He'd been the only one of the   
ghosts to suffer an injury.   
  
His wound was the only one that I'd stopped feeling badly about.  
  
Mrs. Norris had been asleep on Ginny's lap. But, as soon as Snape entered, she'd been awake   
and alert. She sprang to the floor and followed us from the room.  
  
She stood at my feet now, offering me moral support.  
  
Her support was very badly needed. I slumped, resting my forehead and forearms against the   
trophy room wall. "I'm sorry, Headmaster. I can't do it. Forgive me. I'm so tired..."   
  
My last comment had been in a barely audible whisper. I knew that I had no right to complain   
about my exhaustion in front of either Dumbledore or Snape. Terrible as my night had been, each of theirs   
had been far worse. But I simply could not match their endurance! Poppy had healed my ribs, treated my   
bruises and put salve on the rash I'd gotten from touching the vines, but I still ached from head to foot.   
  
I told myself to stop whining. I looked at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, Headmaster," I repeated. "Let   
me fetch my things and make a start at cleaning up in here. It's the least I can..."  
  
There was a sudden change in the air. A tingle of magic ran down my spine. Something   
inhuman, ancient and incredibly powerful, was stirring.   
  
That Something had taken notice of me. Far more notice of me than It ever had before.  
  
"Headmaster...!?" I tried to say. But the word came out as a cry of pain and fear.   
  
Dumbledore who was behind me, reached out to hold me up. Without his support I would have   
crumpled to the floor. My heart was racing. I was covered with sweat.  
  
I was helpless in the grip of Something vast, and far more terrifying than the vine-creature. It   
could crush me, shatter me to pieces, if It were ever to favor me with more than this small fraction of Its   
Awareness.  
  
"No..." I wailed. "Headmaster.... help me! Make It stop...!"  
  
Dumbledore moved, wrapping his left arm around me. He moved his right arm under mine, wand   
in hand.  
  
"No more..." I cried. "Please... It hurts...!"  
  
"It will be all right, Argus..." he said, quietly. "Do not be afraid. You know the Castle better than   
anyone. Better even than I do. Every nook and cranny... every twist and turn, every secret path... your   
place is here. It's time you touched the Castle's heart."  
  
His voice was soothing. I felt his power protecting me, shielding me. I could breathe again.   
  
"Is there something you wish to say?" The Headmaster murmured. "While you have Its   
attention?"  
  
"Yes..." I whispered. My left hand still touched the wall. I knew my thoughts would be heard.   
Still trembling and frightened, my heart beating like a rabbit's in a snare, I nevertheless meant every   
silent word.  
  
Thank you. For keeping everyone within Your Walls safe last night.  
  
Thank you for the life of Ginny Weasley. For the life of Neville Longbottom. For the life of Mrs.   
Norris.  
  
For my life...  
  
Without words, the Castle answered me.  
  
I felt suddenly filled with light. Too much light for me to hold, it spilled out all around me, into   
Dumbledore and Snape.  
  
I did not know what they were feeling. But for me, it was a highly uncomfortable blend of pain   
and joy.   
  
I wept.  
  
Behind me, I heard Severus gasp. He sounded like child, full of awe and wonder, younger than   
Neville and Ginny.   
  
Much more of this and my heart would burst! My hand slipped from the wall.  
  
Gently, Dumbledore moved my hand back. "One thing more..." he reminded me.  
  
Wordlessly, I framed a request.   
  
And the wall in front of me changed.  
  
Four tapestries appeared, all in a row. I had never seen them together before. Side by side, it was   
easier to see the differences in their faint colors, so faded with age that they were barely even there.  
  
The tapestry that had saved Ginny, Neville, Mrs. Norris and me last night, the one that always   
brought me to the Trophy Room, was patterned in traces of red and gold.  
  
The second one, always obliging enough to let me out near my office in the dungeons, bore   
equally faint traces of green and silver.  
  
Next was the faded blue and copper one that would take me near the Library.  
  
Last was the tattered black and yellow one that always took me up to the Owlery.  
  
Then the Castle's Awareness was suddenly gone, as if someone had blown out a candle.  
  
The four tapestries remained.  
  
"Thank you, Argus," Dumbledore said, smiling. He looked as tired as before, but the blue eyes   
behind the half-moon glasses were shining. "Excellent! Well done."  
  
I was shuddering helplessly, my legs too weak to hold me, The Headmaster helped me slide to the   
floor at his feet. I felt broken and battered, like something that had been washed up on a beach after a   
terrible storm.   
  
Mrs. Norris came to me and I clutched her tightly, a drowning man grabbing a rope.  
  
"Please, Headmaster..." I begged, softly, tears still trickling down my face, "never, ever ask me   
to do that again."  
  
"Don't worry, Argus. I won't." Dumbledore assured me. "Too much of that would not be healthy.   
Whenever the Castle decides to notice me I find it quite unsettling. I'm glad that it only usually happens   
once a decade or so."   
  
We both saw a shudder pass through Severus. It seemed that he agreed with us.  
  
"Filch...?"  
  
It was Peeves.   
  
The poltergeist sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. He'd just flown in through the wall. He   
looked down at me, huddled and weeping on the floor, Mrs. Norris fussing over me like a mother cat, and   
the Headmaster and Professor Snape looming over me.  
  
Since last night, the poltergeist, furious at being hurt, and blaming me for his injury, had been   
saying to everyone in the Castle that the Headmaster ought to have me beaten. Maybe he'd even come   
down to the trophy room to plead his case before the Headmaster again and insist that I should be   
punished.   
  
To my dismay, I realized that my cries had probably been audible from the corridor. Wretched   
Peeves had obviously overheard, and had jumped to the wrong conclusion.  
  
Not even Peeves had really expected Dumbledore to do as he'd asked. But, there was Snape   
standing over me, looking malevolent, and the Headmaster beside him, looking grave. Peeves' eyes grew   
rounder than I'd ever seen them get.  
  
"As you can see, Peeves, Filch has answered, in full, for his role in last night's events," Snape   
said, sneering up at the poltergeist. "And I am still not in a particularly good mood. Would you like some   
of what he's just gotten?"  
  
Shocked and disbelieving, I could only sit there, with my mouth open.. My disbelief increased   
when Peeves' sharp little face acquired a guilty look.  
  
"You all right, then, Old Filch?" Peeves asked me, nervously.  
  
"He will be fine," Dumbledore said quietly, before I could produce any coherent sounds. "All   
things considered, I feel that Mr. Filch's actions last evening were really quite brave. Now that the small   
question of his culpability has been dealt with to my satisfaction, I believe that we can consider the   
subject permanently closed."  
  
Peeves looked from Dumbledore to Snape, then down at me. He gulped. Without another word,   
he turned around and flew back out through the wall.  
  
Humiliated, I sputtered, "Headmaster! Professor! Why, in Merlin's Name, did the two of you do   
that?"  
  
Dumbledore's tired blue eyes twinkled. "But, Argus, everything that Severus and I said to Peeves   
was true."  
  
"B-but you said...! You told him that that the question of my guilt was settled. And that the   
subject was closed! Permanently."  
  
"Yes, it is. I don't want to hear another word about it." Dumbledore said.  
  
"Does that mean that neither of you blame me for any of this?" I asked, hesitantly.  
  
Severus and the Headmaster exchanged a glance.  
  
"He's thicker than a troll, Albus!" Snape complained.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled, while Snape scowled at me.  
  
"Filch," Severus said, "Listen carefully, for I am only going to say this once. We do not blame   
you. That vine-creature was clearly meant to grow, secretly, under the Castle until it became too large and   
powerful for us to fight. If you, Mr. Longbottom and Miss Weasley had not awakened it prematurely, that   
is likely to have happened."  
  
"Because of the three of you, that thing did not have a chance to grow too close to the Slytherin   
dormitories, which I suspect, would have been its first target." Snape looked at me, and there was no   
mistaking the gratitude in his weary eyes.  
  
"As for our little prank on the poltergeist..." he continued, "do you think that we wanted to listen   
to that wretched creature milking his injury for all it's worth until next Christmas? We do not wish you to   
feel responsible for things that are not your fault. On the other hand, a little misplaced guilt will do Peeves   
a world of good."  
  
Snape's dark eyes met the Headmaster's again for a moment. Even though both men were   
exhausted, tense and under pressures I couldn't begin to understand, they grinned at each other.   
  
Snape's smile was a brief showing of his teeth, like the flash of a knife.   
  
Dumbledore grinned back like a small boy.  
  
"Peeves teases everyone else in the Castle, Argus." The Headmaster said, mildly. "Do you think   
he deserves to have all the fun?"  
  
"With all due respect, Headmaster, I think it's unfair of the two of you to tease the poltergeist at   
my expense! I think that the pair of you are plainly over-tired and as giddy as house elves under the   
influence of too much cooking sherry. You should both get yourselves to your beds as soon as possible.   
Sirs."  
  
"Soon, Argus," Dumbledore promised. "First we would like to learn a bit about these Doors of   
yours."  
  
Dumbledore and Snape examined the tapestries for a while. I sat on the floor and caught my   
breath. Mrs. Norris sat in my lap and purred. Slowly, I calmed down.  
  
I realized that the Headmaster had called my name.  
  
Both of them were looking at me, gravely.  
  
"Each of these tapestries was created by one of the four Founders." Dumbledore told me. "That   
much is obvious. Over the centuries many wizards and witches have bemoaned the fact that the Castle's   
defenses do not allow them to Apparate and Disapparate inside the Castle, or anywhere on its grounds. It   
seems that the Founders were no different. Each of the Hogwarts Four had a wandering door of their   
own."  
  
He sat on the dirty floor beside me, while Snape continued to examine the tapestries thoughtfully.  
  
"But, why would the Founders have put anti-wizard spells on their Doors?" I asked. "It doesn't   
make sense!"  
  
"Each of the tapestries was keyed only to the witch or wizard who created it," Severus said. "And   
the spells you are referring to were simply meant to prevent them from being used by any other witch or   
wizard."  
  
"Oh," I said, trying not to sound as bitter as I felt. I could use the Founders' Doors only because I   
wasn't a proper wizard. "I see."  
  
"No, you do not," Dumbledore said, earnestly. He sighed. "Argus. Listen to me. You know that   
Squibs are quite unusual. They... you... are not the same as Muggles. But, you are not like other wizards   
either."  
  
"I'm not a wizard at all." I said, automatically.   
  
Snape hissed in frustration. "I've had more than enough of your endless self pity, Filch! Just be   
silent and listen! In the mixture of Wizard and Muggle, magic and mundane, Squibs are rare trace   
elements. You can not create spells, but you can affect them. And magic often reacts to you in ways that   
are unpredictable."  
  
I heard the words, but they didn't make sense. "Are you telling me I *am* a wizard?"   
  
Snape snarled under his breath, muttered "...thicker than a TROLL!" and turned his back on me,   
furiously.  
  
Dumbledore was more patient. "Argus, you are as much a wizard as I am."  
  
I shook my head in disbelief.  
  
"If you weren't a wizard then you would be incapable of using the Doors at all," The Headmaster   
said. "You have just enough magic to use them. If you had any more they would be as closed to you as   
they are to every other witch and wizard in this Castle. When the Founders made the Doors, and warded   
them against other wizards and witches, they did not take Squibs into account when they were casting   
their spells. Many spells simply do not take Squibs into account."  
  
"Magic has strict rules," Snape said, over his shoulder. "But, apparently, Squibs are living   
loopholes."  
  
This was really going to take a while to sink in.  
  
Dumbledore continued, gently. "The magical tools created by powerful witches and wizards can   
acquire a life of their own, as we all know. The Tapestries have been ...lonely. I believe that they are quite   
pleased that someone is finding them useful again."   
  
"You may not be aware of this, but you have already achieved some small degree of control over   
them," he continued. "With more training I believe you may be able to learn how to summon them at will   
and use them to take you anywhere inside the Castle. Or maybe even outside, within its boundaries."  
  
Cuddling Mrs. Norris, I hobbled to my feet, to stare at the Founders' Doors.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "They are yours now, Argus. They've all been keyed to you for some time.   
No one else in the Castle can use them." He sounded pleased for me. And as young and eager as a first   
year with a brand new wand.  
  
Squib Doors, then...?   
  
Mine?  
  
Professor Snape sounded considerably less enthusiastic.  
  
"He's in terrible danger, Albus." Snape said, stiffly. "And the Castle may be in danger from him.   
Surely you realize that. The fewer people who know about this, the safer we will all be. If the Death Eaters   
were to discover what he can do... if they should get their hands on him again, the results could be   
devastating."  
  
I shuddered. He didn't have to spell anything out. I would not be able to fight a Dark Wizard's   
Imperius Curse, a curse that might turn me into an assassin. A killer that could not be stopped by the   
Castle's protective spells against Apparating and Disapparating. Would I now be able to bypass any   
portrait? Any password? Any ward within the Castle? The implications staggered me.  
  
Severus sounded angry with himself. "I am sorry, Albus. I should have been able to predict this!   
If a Dark spell could allow its caster to Apparate within the Castle, using a borrowed Squib-skin, I should   
have surmised that a Squib, who comes by his skin honestly, might be capable of accomplishing the same   
type of feat."  
  
Dumbledore smiled, wryly. "Severus. I am only going to say this once, so listen carefully. You   
could not have predicted this. To the best of my knowledge, the study of Squib-magic is a lost art."  
  
"Nearly everyone in the modern Wizarding world would consider 'Squib magic' a contradiction   
in terms," Severus agreed. He frowned, obviously thinking once more of the ancient Dark scroll that had   
once belonged to Lucius Malfoy. He'd often worried that the scroll wasn't the only one of it's kind.   
  
"Perhaps, for his own safety, Filch shouldn't explore the possibilities offered by those tapestries   
any further..." Severus said.   
  
I would have taken offense. But I heard real regret in Snape's voice. He knew exactly what that   
would have cost me, and he would have grieved at the necessity.  
  
"Knowledge and training are his best protection, Severus. He can train in secret. No one will   
know about the Doors, beyond those who know already. The danger makes it even more important that he   
should be trained." Dumbledore said.  
  
"What about the children? Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom?" Severus asked.   
  
"After I sent you to fetch Argus, Minerva went to see the children. She undoubtedly has already   
told them that the Tapestries must remain a secret, for the sake of Argus's safety."  
  
The Headmaster turned to me and smiled. "She knew, even before she'd spoken with them, that   
the children would be quite willing to keep the secret for your sake, Argus. It seems that they have become   
fond of you."  
  
"Ginny and Neville are good children," I said, embarrassed. "Perfectly well behaved." I glowered   
at Snape, daring him to say something derogatory about Neville. But he said nothing. He looked as if he   
were trying not to smile. Then he yawned and swayed on his feet.  
  
Both Professor and Headmaster looked ready to fall asleep right where they were.   
  
"Severus, I believe that you and I should turn in, at least for an hour or two. Your rooms are still   
mostly intact, aren't they? Yes? Good. Argus, I don't suppose you'd care to offer us the use of one of   
your shortcuts?" Dumbledore sounded curious and wistful.  
  
Then he shook his head, regretfully. "No. Considering how ill it made the children, I suppose it's   
best if we just take the long way. And, Argus, please get some sleep yourself before you start cleaning."  
  
"Yes, Headmaster," I said, obediently.  
  
After the Headmaster and Professor Snape left the Trophy Room, Mrs. Norris and I remained,   
staring at the Doors.  
  
"Well, my sweet, let's choose a shortcut, shall we?" I said.   
  
Still not sure about how much control I could exert over the exit point, I chose the Ravenclaw   
tapestry, because my rooms are closer to the Library than they are to the Dungeons or the Owlery.  
  
"My bedroom, please...?" I said, as I stepped through it. I expected to end up just outside the   
Library, as I always did when I used this Door.  
  
But it was my own room that I emerged into.  
  
"Oh, my," I said to Mrs. Norris, who came through the Door behind me. "I think we can get used   
to this, with very little difficulty indeed...!"  
  
My cat purred, rubbed up against my ankles, and leaped lightly up onto the bed.  
  
"Thank you..." I said to the Squib Door. "Er... you don't have to hang about here, if you have   
other places you'd rather be...?"  
  
The tapestry stayed put.  
  
"Suit yourself then." I said, and collapsed onto the bed next to my cat, too tired to bother with   
getting undressed.  
  
******  
  
I remain who I have always been; the nasty old Squib caretaker of Hogwarts Castle, surrounded   
by Witches and Wizards. All my life I have felt helpless, powerless and useless. Fit only to clean floors,   
and walls and toilets. I am a petty tyrant about the few things I can actually control. I detest children and I   
live to make the students' lives here miserable. The world outside Hogwarts frightens me terribly, and the   
world inside Hogwarts has been slipping out from under me lately.  
  
But, I wonder. Can any of these things ...change?  
  
Can a Castle made of stone and the dreams of Wizards and Witches have a heart?  
  
Ginny and Neville care what happens to me. That's all right. I care very deeply about what   
happens to them, too.  
  
Mrs. Norris has learned to let me out of her sight again.   
  
Professor Snape and the Headmaster pulled a successful prank on Peeves.  
  
(All right, it was at my expense, but you can't have everything.)  
  
Albus Dumbledore himself told me that I'm a Wizard.  
  
The Squib Doors are mine to use.  
  
Anything is possible.  
  
THE END  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
"Filch is as much a wizard as I am." This a quote from Dumbledore, in Andolyn's wonderful story   
"Muggle." Dumbledore says this to Ari, the story's delightful heroine. I borrowed it, because I thought   
Filch would enjoy hearing that from The Headmaster too.  
  
Alchemine: Thank you! I had fun writing McGonagall in Avenging Lioness mode! Filch would have been   
happiest in Hufflepuff, I think. Hufflepuffs are brave, it's just not their most distinguishing characteristic.   
(I tend to think of the Hufflepuffs as being sort of like the Badger Lords in the "Redwall" series. Gentle   
and patient with those they love, able to take their ease during times of peace, but when they're roused to   
anger... they're brave and relentlessly fierce!)  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! The vines were able to use the Tapestry because they hitched a ride with Filch.   
Like Ginny and Neville, they couldn't have gotten through on their own.  
  
Jazzofborg: Thank you!! Yes, Snape definitely knows what goes on in his dungeons. His children sleep   
down there.   
  
It was fun, seeing Peeves get his. So I couldn't resist adding a dash of emotional damage to the   
poltergeist's physical injury!  
  
I hope J.K. Rowling will someday address how Squibs deal with anti-Muggle spells. She hasn't yet, so I   
gave it my best guess.  
  
Barty was a very sneaky little creep indeed. He didn't expect to bring down the whole Castle with the   
vine-monster, but he was aiming for heavy casualties among the young Slytherins. He wanted to strike at   
the "faithless" Death Eaters who'd escaped Azkaban, through their children. I am not sure if Voldemort   
would have approved...  
  
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! Thank you!! Snape definitely agrees with you about Argus's self pity. I   
loved your comparison between Argus, Remus and Sirius and how they all blame themselves for things   
they couldn't help. ;-D Imagine how horrified all three of them would be at the comparison!  
  
Elspeth: Thank you!! My take on Peeves and Filch is that they honestly can't stand each other, but each   
one would feel quite lost without the other. Until Filch nearly died, Peeves never thought about the fact   
that the caretaker isn't immortal. Peeves loves to torment Filch, but seeing the squib harmed by others will   
make the poltergeist uncomfortable. As for Filch, if Peeves ever left the Castle, he wouldn't know what to   
do with himself.  
  
Lyansidde: Thank you!! I wish I could forget my day job. Writing stories all day would be such fun!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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